Double Memory
by worrywart
Summary: What could Albus Dumbledore have done in his youth that meant that two of the Wizarding world's brightest people had to be 'removed' from society when they discovered his secret? And what happens when they return and realize what's been done to them? A story of love and betrayal that begins at the start 20th century and ends at the dawn of the 21st.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: After some time in research and thought, I have decided to take a bit of license with the events of Albus Dumbledore's life between his graduation from Hogwarts and the death of his sister, Ariana. The non canon events are of my own invention, using canon to influence my writing. I needed to do this so that what happens later in this story will have substance. **

**In other chapters, I have also done some research to make the tale I am telling sound plausible, even if what happens is not possible.**

**This entire story is primarily non canon with canon interwoven, as is most of any fan fiction. My characters are, for the most part, OOC; I admit that now. However, I tried to keep them within reasonable facsimiles of their canon characterisations. If you're going to flame, then flame logically...point out **_**constructively **_**why you have a problem with my story. I may not agree with you, but you may provide me something to think about that will change or influence this story. **

**June 1902**

Nicolas Flamel dropped his quill as the knocking on his door continued. "Coming, coming!" he called. Wrenching the door open, he faced a young man with shoulder length dark hair and bright blue eyes. "Yes?"

"I'm Albus Dumbledore. You replied to my correspondence and said..."

"Oh, come in!" Nicolas stepped away from the threshold. "Yes, yes of course. I've got so many projects underway, I sometimes forget to look at my diary! Come in, come in. Set your things anywhere. Now let me see...I've got your letter of introduction here somewhere." Nicolas moved stacks of papers and a few books as he looked around for the letter he mentioned. One of the books he shoved out of the way fell off the table, and the screech of a cat indicated where it had landed. "Ahhh, I've found it!" Adjusting his specs, he mumbled, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian; merciful Merlin boy, who saddled you with all that?"

"My mother was…fanciful," Albus replied.

Nicolas looked at Albus for a moment. "Yes, mothers can be." He shifted his gaze back to the parchment in his hand. "Graduated from 1899 from Hogwarts. That's just two years ago; what have you been doing since?"

"My mother passed away the year I graduated. I was to travel to the continent, but I have been staying at home with my brother and sister; she is not well."

"If you sister is not well, why are you here then?"

"My brother has graduated and can take care of her now."

"Is that so?" He read the sheet again, "Top grades in Transfiguration, and Potions. Well, that will definitely be of use here. Your vitae indicates your seventh year project was studying dragon's blood?"

"Yes, sir; I read one of your academic papers regarding the use of animal blood in alchemy, and it interested me a great deal. I have been having some limited success with some of my experiments."

"Enough for you to write me and ask for an apprenticeship, I daresay?" Nicholas smiled widely at the young man.

"I had hoped my theories might interest you and recommend me to study further, yes."

"Ah. Well, then," said Nicolas, throwing down the parchment. "Let's find you a place to sleep. I am afraid space is limited, and you'll need to share with the other boy I have apprenticing. His name is Gellert."

Nicolas led Albus up several flights of stairs to the attic of the house. Two beds stood on either side of a dilapidated coal-burning stove. "I'm afraid it's that and warming charms to keep away the cold. My wife usually gives an extra blanket in the winter months. Set your things on the empty bed, and then let's head downstairs; I'll give you the Grande Tour!" Nicolas said jovially, and he retreated to the floors below.

Albus set his things on the unused bed and hurried after the old man. A tingle of excitement filled his belly. He could not wait to show the man all of his notes on the possible uses he had speculated one could use dragon's blood and some theories on alchemy.

The tour ended in the basement of the house where numerous cauldrons were lined up for use. One or two bore the marks of having exploded and been repaired.

"The cauldrons are here, as you can plainly see." Nicolas pointed to the cauldrons made of various metals; iron, brass, steel, pewter and gold. "Over there," he said, pointing to the opposite wall, "is the ingredients cupboard. I keep it locked at night, but during the hours we are here working, it is open and available for you to use. I ask that you mark what you use and how much in the register there on the shelf of the items you use so that we can order them as needed. Fetching them will be part of your duties as well. The bookcases on the left hand wall are all my reference materials and books; I'd appreciate you making of note of any you remove for your use while you are here."

A noise coming from a door leading to the back garden caused both men to turn. "Ah, here is Gellert now! I sent him to the apothecary for some thistledown. Gellert, my boy, come and meet Albus!"

A deep voice answered, "Yes, sir." Gellert closed the door and came into the room. He had a basket under his arm that was brimming with various plants, including the thistledown Nicolas had needed. "Our order for the other plants had come in; I picked those up while I was there."

"Good thinking, lad. I'd like you to meet our new apprentice. Albus, this is Gellert Gridelwald. Gell, Albus Dumbledore."

Albus took in the man in front of him. Just a bit taller than his own six feet, he had light brown hair that was a little longer than shoulder length, and a striking face that spoke of Austrian origin. He had full lips, and his skin was quite brown from the sun. "Nice to meet you, Gellert." Albus extended a hand.

"Call me Gell; everybody does. Good to meet you, too. You're the bloke Nicolas was all in a dither about because of the dragon's blood?"

"I supposed I would be."

"Fantastic. I read your paper, and you have some spectacular ideas. I can't wait to talk to you about them. But right now, I need to get these plants taken care of. Where do you want the thistledown, Nicolas?"

Nicolas gestured to the far table and turned to speak to Albus. "Let's get you set up on a project to warm you up and get you used to how we work. Once you feel comfortable, we'll get started on some of your theories."

Much later, as he sat on his bed, Albus scribbled in his diary, whom he called _'Old Friend'_. It was not the first such diary he owned; he had several he had written in through the years. Writing gave him a chance to sort out the day and find ideas he may have missed that could be important later on.

_3 June 1902_

_Dear Old Friend,_

_I have settled in at Flamel's. Quite a day! Nicolas and Perenelle are very nice and welcomed me with open arms. Perenelle is a grandmotherly sort and concerned at supper that I was just 'skin and bones' and needed 'fed up'. _

_For a man of great age, Nicolas seems spry, if partially dotty. Wild white hair, eyebrows that look as though they should be plaited and leathery skin bespeaking of much time spent in the sun. Nevertheless, __his theories are astounding, and I look forward to learning alchemy with him. He is also going to oversee some of my other subjects so that I don't fall too far behind when I find an apprenticeship in those areas._

_I also met Gellert Grindlewald, a beautiful man. He is tall, blond, and good looking. He was very quiet at first, but as the hours went by, he became more animated. I believe he and I will be good friends._

_Flamel set me to work straight away. The lab is __not the neat lab of school or St. Mungo's that I had expected to see. It is glorious in its set up; cauldron upon cauldron, shelves of reference material, and one table in particular that Nicolas calls a desk, but in actuality it is a table that is nearly ready to collapse from the weight of years of work apparently, all quite important; books, notes, quills, scrolls of parchment, twine, bits of bread, ink pots, scarves. It would not surprise me to find a litter of kittens in amongst the clutter..._

Weeks passed as Albus settled into the routine of the little three-man operation. Nicolas was an easy Master; he was friendly and fair. He had seen him need to discipline Gellert on occasion, but the infractions were handled succinctly and never brought up again. Albus himself fell under his Master's bad grace on one occasion and vowed never to do so again.

He primarily studied alchemy, but Nicolas felt it would make the boys 'well rounded' if they had a basis in Transfiguration and Potions was well, although Gellert seemed to have no head for it. Albus, however, was fascinated by the study and application of the art of alchemy and eagerly studied this branch of knowledge. He even attempted to apply the theory of alchemy to his study of dragon's blood, but the results were not as successful as he had hoped.

The three men worked together and separately on projects. Some of the projects were assigned by Flamel as part of their apprenticeship, and others were projects they needed to complete as part of Flamel's business. In all, it was a happy little group.

At night, when the days' work was completed, and just before the boys dragged out their books for study, they would eat dinner and bash together theories on Albus' principles about dragon's blood. These discussions often went beyond dinner when wine was poured and shared as they continued their discussions. Nicolas usually fell asleep, and the boys would bundle him off to his bedroom. Then two younger men would then return to the table to continue with their theories. One night, they were discussing the new discoveries of Albus'.

"So far I've come up with an ink, and some sort of solvent that I discovered by accident. Ruined my best pair of shoes." He smiled as Gellert laughed in the deep hearty laugh that Albus was becoming rather enamoured of. "But it seems that the properties within the blood that make a dragon resistant to its own fire must mean that it could be used for curing illnesses."

"St Mungo's would pay well for that," Gellert said offhandedly.

"That they would, that they would."

Albus continued talking, but Gellert was not paying any attention, thinking of the Galleons to be had from St. Mungo's when something Albus said caught his attention. "What's that?" Gellert asked.

"I said I discovered today that some of the cells in the plants I'd been working with have reacted to the potion I developed from the dragon's blood. It altered the stamen and pistil to make them sterile. I simply could not make them reproduce. I'll need to see if I can reverse the process." Albus took a long drink before he continued, "If I can, I see several possible uses, provided I can repeat the experiment; think of it...we could kill off some nuisance plants and insects, rats, that sort of thing."

"How do you see that working on witches and wizards?" Gellert asked, quite out of the blue.

Albus was a bit flummoxed. "I haven't really thought that far." He stroked the beard he had begun to grow; it was at the itchy stage. "I suppose one could use it to help couples who don't want any more children. However, I believe there are researchers at St. Mungo's who are working on a potion like that. One that will help them avoid having children in the first place, but not actually sterilising men and women."

"Hmm," Gellert hummed.

"Gellert," Albus asked hesitantly, "what are you thinking?"

"Nothing, Al, nothing. Just that I'd love to get rid of gnats _and_ rats," he said, pointing to a rodent running across their workroom.

Their discussion ended not long after and the boys went up to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, and they had no duties. Albus decided to head to Godric's Hollow to visit his brother and sister. It had been three months since he had seen them. He did not leave on the best of terms with Aberforth, and he hoped that time had cooled his brother's temper so that they could discuss the best way to keep Ariana safe.

_21 August 1902_

_Dear Old Friend,_

_Tomorrow I am heading—for the first time since I've arrived at Flamel's—to Godric's Hollow to see Ariana and Abe. I imagine it will be a touchy visit, but I hope that for Ariana's sake, Abe and I will be cordial. _

_I am in a whirl of confusion of late. My attraction to Gell grows daily, and I am unsure if I can remember where the line is so that I do not cross it. He has given me no 'sign' as it were, to indicate he may be of a like soul as mine. He never mentions a girl, so I do wonder. _

_But as much as I am enamoured of the man, some of his ideas are a bit startling. As we worked on uses for my sterilisation potion—well it's not much more than a theory as yet—he said some startling things that make me wonder just what sort of ideas he has for its use._

Albus was up early the next morning, even before the sun had made much progress in the sky. Gellert lay undisturbed as Albus had quietly gotten ready. He had a quick breakfast of tea and some leftover pork pie from the night before.

With a quiet pop, he Apparated from the Flamel's back garden into Godric's Hollow. He walked to the house his mother had bought not long after his father had been sentenced to Azkaban, but rather than just going right in, Albus decided it might be better to knock. It only took a minute for Aberforth to answer.

"Decided to visit, eh?" Aberforth left the door hanging open and walked back into the room. He had a pan of water on the table, dirty crockery stacked around it.

"Why don't you do that magically?" asked Albus, pointing to the pan.

"Too much magic bothers Ariana. Makes her irritable. Course if you were around more often, you'd know that."

"I see you're not going to be pleasant." Albus pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. "And I _was _here, Abe. While you were at school, remember? Right after Mother died. I know what bothers Ariana. Although I do admit, that this seems to be new development; how long as it been going on?"

"Started sometime after you left I gather."

"Do you think she is reacting to my being gone?"

"She reacts to everything," Aberforth spat, sloshing water from the pan as he pulled a plate out to scrub.

"It is growing worse, then?" Albus asked, a look of concern growing across his face.

"Yes. And I don't know what to do. The money will not hold out much longer; I need to find a job, but I can't leave Ariana alone for long periods of time."

"What do you with her with when you do need to leave; you know she doesn't handle crowds well."

Aberforth nodded toward the house across the street. "Tildie's grandmother comes over. You remember old lady Bagshot?" Albus nodded. "Ariana seems to do all right with her. That lady couldn't scare a cat."

"I make no money at Flamel's." Albus leaned back in the chair. "I might have a solution though. Part of my contract states that anything I create and patent will only be one-third owned by Flamel. Therefore, if I sell a patent, I only need to pay him one third up front and then one third of the royalties afterward. I could sell a patent and give you the money. That would help, wouldn't it?"

"It would, but I won't hold my breath until I see the money."

"So like Father you are. Always counting Galleons and Knuts."

"Love don't pay the bills, Albus. Neither does waffling on about the power of purebloods and whatever crackpot theory you're on about this week."

Albus stood quickly, his chair falling over. Aberforth knew just how to goad him, and this was a long-standing argument between the brothers. "If Muggles knew their place- -" His diatribe was cut off by a wail from Ariana' bedroom.

"Bloody hell, Albus! You've disturbed her. First she's slept in twenty-four hours, too." Aberforth hurried over to the door, speaking soothing words as he opened it.

Albus watched the door click shut, and he picked up his chair and sat heavily down upon it. Aberforth was always on him about his views. Their father was a staunch pureblood and spoke freely and at length about the status of Muggles in their world. He believed, as did a cadre of his peers, that it was the Wizarding right to subjugate Muggles, to bend them to a Wizard's will. Albus listened to his father's arguments with some disinterest, but it wasn't until Ariana was attacked that he gave his father's word any credence.

When his father had been sentenced to Azkaban for attacking the worthless Muggles who tortured his sister, reducing her to near squib status, Albus began his own personal agenda to see that Muggles learn what their 'proper' place in society was.

A door creaked open, pulling Albus from his thoughts.

"Come on, Albus is here," Aberforth spoke softly, gently pulling Ariana from her room. "Look, he's there at the table. He's come to see you." Although he spoke softly to the girl, he glared at his brother.

"Hello, Ariana," Albus said quietly.

"Albus?" the girl whispered.

"Yes, it's me. I've come to see you."

The girl hurried to her brother, a smile on her face. "Albie, Albie," she cried as she cuddled her face into her brother's neck. "I've missed you, Albbie!"

"I've missed you too, Ari," said Albus as he carefully held the girl close, but with his arms hung loosely around her. The brothers learned early on that to hold Ariana tightly lead to her screaming and fighting. They could only surmise she had been held down during her attack.

"Are you staying, Albie? Please say you're staying!" the young girl implored.

"I can only stay for a while, Ari. I must go back to my job."

"Why?" the girl complained. "Stay here with me and Abe." Her eyes filled with tears.

"I can't stay too long today, love, but perhaps over Christmas?"

"No, no, no. Please stay."

"Oh, love. Here; let me read you a story, okay? You like to have me read to you."

Ariana, her mental status so disrupted, was easily distracted. "Oh, yes; I'll get my book, and we can cuddle while you read!" Ariana dashed away to her room, appearing only a moment later with a small book in her hand.

Albus looked at it and then up at his brother. "A Muggle book?"

"Sort of; it's by them Grimm Brothers what were Wizards a long time ago. Found it at a jumble sale last spring. Thought she'd like the pictures, but she likes the stories even more."

"Come one, then, Ari; let's get settled and read." Albus stood and walked into the sitting room and settled on the sofa. Ariana crawled up next to him and snuggled into his side. He put his arm around her and opened the book. "Which story first?" he asked.

"The one about the red girl," she replied.

Albus looked to his brother to translate. "Little Red Riding Hood," he said.

Albus flipped to the page, cleared his throat and began. Three stories later, each chosen by Ariana, and each the lesser known works of the Grimm's Brothers, Albus declared that it was time for him to leave.

Ariana had been lulled into a semi-sleep state by Albus' low voice and was easily moved and convinced that he would return at Christmas with a lovely present for her. Albus kissed her on the forehead and left her with her book.

"You'll come at Christmas then?" asked Aberforth.

"Yes, that is my plan; we have a week off then as part of our contract. Master Flamel is quite generous to his apprentices."

"Is he?" Aberforth asked snidely.

"Yes. You're doing a good job with her, Abe; I know it's hard to do so day and day out. I'll send what money I can to help out."

"That will be helpful."

"I'll write to you in a few days to see how she is."

Aberforth grunted as his brother left. He looked around the cottage and snorted. Albus was always a bit of a dreamer. He planned and planned, but he had yet to see any great changes come from those plans. He wouldn't hold his breath waiting for the money or for Albus to return at Christmas time. _Oh well, _he thought_. No use crying over spilt butterbeer. Time to make Ariana's dinner._


	2. Chapter 2

**Forgot to add disclaimer at Chapter one: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe. That privilege belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

I would like to thank a bunch of folks who have eyeballed this for me: Velveteenbunny, OneCelestialBeing, Jaimes_lady, One Red Shoe to name a few. I hacked all to hell after they sent it back so the mistakes are mine, all mine!

This chapter contains slash, but it is not explicit. For more explicit content, please see this same story posted on AO3 and The Maple Bookshelf. In fact, all sexual content in this story will be published on those two sites in their more explicit forms. I like this site, and don't want to be bounced off.

* * *

Christmas 1902 came and went before Albus could catch his breath. He loved his work and the hours he spent with Nicolas and Gellert were pleasantly filled with brewing, conversation, speculation, and not a few arguments over theory.

Nicolas' wife, Perenelle filled the empty motherly void in Albus' life as well. She was the sort of woman who loved to spoil the young men in her life. She plied them with all manner of food to fatten them up, and she made sure that at the foot of their beds on Christmas morning were warm, handmade knit socks and vests. Warming charms only lasted so long and her boys—as she called them—were as liable to forget the world around them while deep in research as her husband tended to do.

Albus did not forget his promise to Aberforth to sell a patent, and the money he made helped give Ariana a few Christmas presents and food to last for a couple of months. He also did not forget his promise to visit, bringing with him a small gift or two. He had found a Muggle book on flowers when he was looking for research material, and he knew the colourful pictures inside would enthral his sister. He also presented Ariana and Aberforth with warm sweaters knitted by Perenelle, and Albus was most grateful for her kindness.

In the first week of January 1903, Nicolas and Perenelle decided to take a little holiday to the continent. The old alchemist wanted to see a true Wagnerian opera in Austria that he knew was being performed there. All formal research had come to a standstill as it usually did over the holiday, so this was the perfect time to go.

Only Gellert seemed adamant to continue working through the holidays; he wanted to explore Albus' sterilisation theories, and Albus was an eager and willing partner in this research. Therefore, with not much going on, the Flamel's took off for a weeks' rest, leaving the two boys alone with an admonishment not to study too much and not to eat their way out of house and home!

Their third night alone, they had drunk an entire bottle of elf made wine while they ate their dinner and regaled each other with stories of their school days. Gellert had attended Durmstrang, and since it was entirely more rigidly disciplined than Hogwarts, he laughed with delight at the antics the Hogwarts students got up to. It wasn't that Durmstrang students didn't have fun; it just had to be more subtly done.

Although normally a private young man, Albus' tongue was loosened by the wine, and he told Gellert of his childhood, his parents and his siblings. Gellert grabbed on to the fact his father was in Azkaban for attacking the Muggles.

"You see!" he exclaimed, waving his full glass of wine so that some sloshed out, "that's exactly what I have been trying to tell you, Al. Your dad should not have gone to Azkaban at all. Those Muggles should have been put in their place...or killed, if it'd been me." He leant back in his chair, an air of youthful superiority suffusing his face as he drank deeply. "Why did the authorities allow what happened to the Muggles take precedence over your father's honour bound duty to protect his daughter? If we continue with my research, we will have the Muggles at our feet before we reach middle age!"

"But Gell, most of the time the statute of secrecy works, and there _is_ no trouble. My father was made an example of for-"

"Example nothing," Gellert cut across Albus, slamming his goblet onto the table and standing to emphasise his point. "Instead being thrown in Azkaban, he should have been held up to the heights as an example of what Purebloods should accept and not accept. You'll see, Al; our research will do it. Wizards will rule, you'll see!" He stood before the young man, panting from his excitement and zeal.

Albus couldn't help but smile at the surety of the man's words. Gellert's eyes shone brightly, and whether it was the wine or the joy of knowing a plan was coming together, he wasn't sure, but he was becoming more sure about the another emotion currently building in his body.

He had figured out early on that while he could appreciate the beauty of a woman, he was not attracted to them. He would lay in his bed at night while in school and listen to the other boys' gossip about snogging and shagging, but those conversations never titillated him. When he was in seventh year, he had had an encounter with another seventh year boy, but aside from intense snogging and frottage in an alcove in the dungeons, nothing ever came of it.

In the summer of his first year out of school, he had met a young man in the market one day whilst shopping for groceries. Both had been looking over a cart of marrows and struck up a conversation that led to an impromptu lunch of pasties and ale, and then an agreement to meet later that evening.

That night changed his life. Andrew was very patient, very loving, very handsome, and very athletic. They saw each other whenever they could for several months, and then Andrew left to go to America. He felt the simmering political climate of both the Wizarding world and the European Muggle world had the potential to become explosive, and he did not feel it his place to fight in a war he didn't believe in if it were to come to that.

Albus was broken hearted and could not show it. Homosexuality, while more acknowledged in the Wizarding world than the Muggle world at the time, was still not an openly discussed. There was no crying on your friend's shoulder when your partner left. There was only quiet pain and struggling to make it through the day. The death of his mother only weeks later was a further blow to him. He wandered through the days soulless and lost. He struggled to help take care of Ariana and not fight with Aberforth. Albus loved Abe, but his deep pain caused him to lash out at his younger brother, who is his own right was lost and confused. Times passed slowly, but as always, time was sympathetic and Albus began to heal.

Gellert brought Albus out of his reverie by emptying the last of the wine between their two goblets. "A toast, Albus!" he said, lifting his glass and indicating Albus should do the same. "Here's to the Wizarding world, may it be as pure as can be and always mindful of its place in society!"

Their glasses clinked, but Gellert was a bit too forceful, and his glass broke in his hand. Albus leant quickly forward and grabbed Gellert's hand to inspect it for cuts and bleeding. He looked it over carefully and even though he determined it to be free of injury, he continued to hold it. It was warm and soft; there were a few calluses and little scars on the fingertips from years of writing, chopping ingredients, and wand accidents. He turned it over and looked at the palm. It was heavily lined, and from what little he remembered from his third year Divination class, Gellert was apparently to have a long life.

Albus didn't realize he was stroking the hand in his contemplation until a small cough interrupted him. He snapped his head up to find his face was very close to Gellert's.

"Do you find something about my hand that bothers you?" Gellert asked, his breath softly wafting across Albus' face.

"It is a nice hand," said Albus stupidly.

Gellert raised his free hand and stroked Albus' face. "Thank you."

Albus stared into Gellert's face and did not react immediately when it was obvious that Gellert was moving closer. However, at the first soft brush of lips against his, he closed his eyes and allowed whatever would happen next, happen.

It was a tentative kiss at first. Neither man knew how much experience the other might have, but Gellert, being the stronger in personality of the two, took the next step of swiping his tongue along the seam of Albus's lips. Albus opened his mouth, and Gellert quickly deepened the kiss. It was only when they couldn't catch their breath did they part.

Breathing heavily, they looked at each other. Gellert spoke first.

"Are you...have you?"

"Yes, a couple of times. You?"

"Yes, several times."

Gellert didn't give Albus much time to think about the difference in experience when he was pulled out of his seat and dragged up the stairs to their room. With a wave of Gellert's wand, one of the beds was widened. As soon as that was done, Gellert began to kiss Albus again, immediately forcing his lips open with his tongue and pulling at his clothes. Albus wasted no time in reciprocating the kisses and the removal of Gellert's clothes.

As soon as they were naked, they pressed their bodies together and moved their hands all over in an attempt to drink each other in through their sense of touch. Gellert's hands came up to Albus' shoulders and began to push him down.

Albus understood immediately what he wanted, and as soon as he had both knees on the floor, he began to suck and fondle as Gellert groaned above him.

"Good gods man, you're bloody fantastic. Oh, suck a bit harder at the tip. Yeah, that's it." He put his hands on either side of Albus' head to guide the rhythm. Gellert was very disciplined and stopped Albus shortly before he came. "Lay on the bed," he panted.

Albus did as commanded and Gellert followed quickly, crawling up over Albus' slim body and leaned down to kiss him, their tongues caressing and flexing as they kissed. Tracing a path from Albus's mouth down his jaw and neck, Gellert shinnied back until he could run his tongue along Albus' belly, dip into his navel and then nose his way through the thatch of brown curls that marked where his sex was.

Albus was in heaven, and as soon as Gellert's hand was on his cock, he whimpered in pleasure. He felt Gellert's tongue take tiny licks before laving from the base upward and then engulfing it with his mouth. Gellert's other hand cradled Albus's bollocks, hefting and twisting them gently.

Sooner than Albus would have liked, Gell leaned back on his heels and began to run his finger around the rim of Albus' puckered opening. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," he rasped.

"Perfect." With a quick spell, Gellert lubricated them both and slowly, gently, slipped inside the warm channel. Albus winced a bit at first, but Gellert leant forward and whispered soothing words into his ear, giving him soothing kisses that helped him relax. When Gellert had gone as far as he could, they waited a moment for Albus to adjust.

"You okay?"

"Yes," said Albus, "very." He smiled and moved his hips a bit.

Gellert smiled back and began to thrust, gently at first and then with more sure and firmer strokes. Albus reached down to stroke himself in time to the thrusts within his body. The wine prolonged the experience for both men, but when they finally came within moments of each other, the satisfaction exceeded their expectations.

Gell carefully withdrew from Albus' body and sat back a moment, breathing heavily. "I dropped my wand over there. Do you have yours?"

"Yes, hang on," Albus panted, reaching over to the stand by his bed and grabbing his wand. With a feeble wave and double flick, he had cleaned them both.

Gellert moved to lie down beside Albus and wrapped himself around him. "That was wonderful," he said.

"It was," mumbled Albus. He might have said more, asked what this was between them, but the wine and exertion caught up with them, and they both fell into a deep sleep.

The young men spent the rest of the week working haphazardly in between bouts of lovemaking. Nicolas had not left them a great deal of work in the first place and had told them to spend time doing their own private research if they wished.

On Friday morning as the boy ate, Gellert asked Albus a question that had been on his mind in the weeks since Albus had told them of the experiment that led to the plant sterilisation.

"Hey Al, what do you say we work a bit more on your potion; you know the one that sterilised the plants?"

"Sure, Gell. What did you have in mind for it?"

"Well, I've been thinking how we wondered if we could use it to kill insects and such. I was wondering if we could use it on rats; you know, feed it to them and see what happens? You have to admit, if we could come up with a way to rid the area of rats, we could make loads of Galleons."

"That is true; it would be nice to make a bit more than we do now."

"Exactly," said Gellert, excitedly. "Since rats reproduce so quickly, we can see how quickly it would work."

"Let me get my notes," said Albus, "and we can brew up some of the potion this afternoon; it'll need to mature overnight, and then we can feed it to the rats in the morning."

Gellert clapped his hands and then rubbed them furiously together. "Okay, let's get to work!"

The experiment didn't work as they had hoped at first, and they wound up spending the next couple of weeks trying several modifications. It turned out the rats didn't like the smell of the potion on their food and wouldn't eat it. Attempts at putting it on the rats' skin to lick off didn't work either. There were many arguments, some including Nicolas, about the best way to deliver it when Albus was struck on by an idea. "We need to make it odourless and water soluble. The rats will drink it more readily or lick it off when they are wet."

Whipping out a piece of parchment, Albus began to write and think out loud. "Let's see; if we change the ration of dragon's blood here," he fiddled with a rune, "and then transpose this rune and add marsh weed here instead of...yes, yes that works." He stood up and nibbled on the end of his quill. "Yes, this is it; here!" He scribbled furiously and consulted one text before he pronounced himself satisfied with the results. "There! That should do it!"

Nicholas and Gellert both looked at the parchment for several minutes, quietly discussing the changes.

"Albus, me boy! I think you've done it!" cried Nicolas. "The rat problem of England is solved!" A cheer went up as the boys gathered their ingredients and prepared to test it.

_March 12, 1903_

_Dear Old Friend,_

_I am confused and almost hesitant to put my thoughts on parchment for fear all that is wonderful in my life will blow up and be no more. Gellert is amazing I must admit, but..._

_There is an underlying current of sadism within him that is frightening. Whenever we need to kill the rats we use in the lab, rather than use Avada Kadavra, he takes delight in wringing their necks. Nicolas refers to it has 'Gell's little habit', but the more I know Gellert, the more I am becoming suspicious of his motives._

_We have fabulous discussions; he is so very bright, and he can really be persuasive. He has me nearly convinced that the old legend of the Deathly Hallows is true. He even uses their symbol as a crest on his formal writing paper. I can hardly believe that those old children's tales have such a malevolent underlying meaning._

_I often wonder what it is about this man that engages me so; we seem to see eye to eye on the issue of Muggles and their proper place in society, but I am not sure if he is not just blinded by ambition and not thinking clearly..._

Albus and Gellert were walking briskly toward the centre of town in an effort to finish their errand and return to Flamel's home. They had been arguing a good bit of the way, Gellert more eagerly pressing his point as they strode along.

"So I'm telling you, Al, if you have the Hallows you are invincible; imagine never being able to be defeated in a duel, being able to travel wherever you wanted and never being noticed, and finally, bringing back all those you love! You'd like to see your mother and father again, wouldn't you?" Gellert hoped that last titbit of information would be the advantage he needed to tip Albus' thinking. Gellert was masterful, and he knew it, but he also knew he needed someone to work for him, and when he had the Hallows, that's what he intended to have Albus do; work for him.

"I don't know, Gell," Albus slowly said. "The stone is fascinating, and it would be grand to see my parents again, but the other reasons I am not so sure about. Besides, we have Disillusionment Charms to make one nearly invisible; that's good enough, and winning at duels is not because of the wand, but the skill of the wizard."

"But Al...think of it; all that power and the ability to wield it, to bend others to our wishes."

"Gell, stop! I really don't think your idea is sound. However, we can discuss this another time; we need to get these missives delivered and head back to Flamels'. He has several orders we need to finish before the end of the day."

Later that evening, as the pair was getting ready for bed, Gellert returned to his topic. "What do you say, Al; are you with me? Will you help me find the Hallows?"

"I don't know," sighed Albus.

Gellert moved closer to Albus, who had only got as far as undressing before slipping into his nightshirt. He slid his hands over Albus' back and shoulders and then leaned down to kiss him softly on the shoulders.

"Please? Together we would be invincible!"

Albus shuddered as Gellert continued to kiss him. "I'll consider it," he said as he turned to take Gellert's face in his hands and kiss him deeply.

At the end of the next week, Albus and Gellert had put on their neatest cloaks and headed for the Ministry to register their patent. Once at the patent office, they quickly filled out the forms, Nicolas for once allowing them to be the primary authors with him as their co-author; as apprentices, they would have normally been listed only as co-authors of the patent.

The pretty secretary in the office took their application and explained that it would be reviewed, and if accepted, they would receive an owl within the week. Albus and Gellert wished the young lady good day and headed to Diagon Alley for lunch and the supplies Nichols needed.

Melvin Mickles, head of the Patent Application Office, looked over the _Sterilitate_ patent in front of him. Submitted by Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Gridelwald and co-signed by Nicolas Flamel, he knew he should more or less rubber stamp it; anything with Flamel's name normally was. However, a small memory tickled at his brain, and he was bound to winkle it out.

He put the application down and leant back in his chair...Dumbledore was known as a well-studied student who had graduated from Hogwarts almost three years ago, having won several leaving prizes. Even though his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban, young Albus was studious, devoted to his sister and had a rather iffy relationship with his brother. It was known that he planned on obtaining and apprenticeship in Transfiguration—he excelled in the subject at Hogwarts—and was an understudy to Flamel.

Grindelwald was a bit more of a wild wand. From what Melvin knew, he had been thrown out of Durmstrang, and had been brought in more than once by Aurors both in his homeland and in Britain for inciting riots. His anti-Muggle stance was well known, and Melvin was afraid that young Dumbledore was being influenced by the charismatic man. Albus was known for hating Muggles—the attack on his sister years ago cementing his hatred Melvin supposed—but was known for a lesser degree of pureblood fanaticism.

However, what was it he had heard about Grindelwald? Melvin knew that he had a few contemporaries who believed in the legend of the Deathly Hallows. He suddenly sat up straight and grabbed the application, searching the signature lines.

There it was. The bizarre triangle-circle-stick seal Grindelwald used. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Melvin had heard about it, but had never seen it. It looked innocent enough, and he was unsure of what it meant. He threw the paper down. _Harworth would know_, he thought. Harworth Pickens worked as an Unspeakable and would know about things like this, especially if the hints he had dropped to Melvin were of any worth. Grabbing a spare bit of parchment, he wrote a note to Harworth and sent it off. Perhaps a few drinks together would shed some light on the issue.

Harworth Pickens sat down at his desk with a sigh. He wished he hadn't accepted the drinks invite with Melvin after all, because it only confirmed the suspicions that had been filtering into the Ministry concerning Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald and by extension, Nicolas Flamel. Although Flamel's reputation was above reproach, it would suffer the longer he kept the pair as apprentices. Harworth wondered if Flamel even knew what the pair was up to when they were not at home.

Although the Ministry turned a blind eye to the current ideal that Muggles should be subordinate to Wizards, it only acted proactively when public opinion and donations from wealthy purebloods waned into Ministry coffers. Hence the rather overactive action in the Dumbledore case. Pickens belonged to a small cadre of forward thinking wizards (including Melvin) who realized that the infusion of Muggleborn witches and wizards into the gene pool would save the population from extinction.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," he called.

A tall blond haired man came in. "Pickens, what's up?"

"Have a seat, David." He indicated with a hand the empty chair. "You know those rumours we've heard about Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore? It appears they may be true."

"How do you mean?"

"A friend of mine, whom I know to be trustworthy, brought me this yesterday." Harworth handed him a copy of the sketch he had been given.

"The Deathly Hallows, eh?" asked David. "Grindelwald or Dumbledore?"

"Need you ask?"

"He has been spouting this crap since he was in Durmstrang. Do you think he's that much of an influence on Dumbledore?"

Pickens shrugged. "Dumbledore's father was known for his hatred of Muggles and Albus shares that hatred. He would elaborate those theories to anyone who asked when he was a school."

"Why the sudden interest?" David asked.

"The patent office received a rather interesting application," Harworth said. He picked up another piece of paper and handed it to David.

David read it over. "_Sterilitate_ potion? So what...they want to get rid of rats or something?"

"Well, that might be one use. I was interested in the fact it was water-soluble."

"So?"

"According the notes submitted with the patent, the potion makes rats sterile so they can't breed. In two generations, no more rats. It is known that Gellert Grindelwald would like to rid the world of Muggles or at least make them subservient to magical folk." He trailed off at the end of his words, hoping David would realize the direction he was heading.

David was quick to catch on. "How long do you think it would take? How do you think they would do it?"

"I don't know. We'd have to give this to the Arithmancy bunch, have them calculate the variables."

"You want me to take this to them?" asked David.

"Yes. In the meantime, I'll order the pair watched."

David shook his head. "How many more times we will have to do this?"

"I don't know, until they finally get it through their heads, I suppose."

"Forever then, eh?"

"Probably."

David left the room while Harworth drafted the order to have Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore watched.


	3. Chapter 3

_May 16, 1903_

_Dear Old Friend,_

_It has been two months since we applied for our patent and for some reason, things are being held up. They continually ask for samples, modifications, specifications. What should be cut and dry process is not. _

_I have noticed too, that I am being followed. I am continually experiencing that 'something out of the corner of my eye feeling' when I go to town or to visit Aberforth and Ariana. _

_Speaking of which, both are quite mad at me; Ariana because I can't stay, and Abe because I won't give up Gellert. We had a spectacular argument over him the other day. How can he ask me to give up someone I love?_

_But even I must admit that Gell seems to be uneasy these days. We argue more and more, and I can't help but wonder if his ideas are not becoming perverted. What was once simple Muggle subordination has become ideas of annihilation. This is not what we first dreamed of; it is not what I can abide. _

_I must think on this. _

_May 21, 1903_

_Dear Old Friend,_

_Gellert too has noticed we are being watched by the Ministry. Our patent has still not been approved; I can only surmise that they have gotten wind of Gellert's ultimate use of the potion. _

_I have thought long and hard, and I fear I must leave Gellert. My heart is heavy and breaking. I love the man, but I cannot be a party to this anymore. He has become wild and reckless with his ideas. We once dreamed of putting Muggles in their place, and now Gellert has decided that they need to be eradicated. I may have been angry enough at one point in my life to feel that way, but my hatred has been tempered by time. Annihilation is not the key to dealing with the non magical. I cannot let my simple potion be used for such a holocaust. _

_Nicolas has noticed Gellert's mania; I even overhead him speaking to Perenelle about letting him go. _

* * *

"Al? Al, wake up." Gellert shook the shoulder of his lover. "C'mon, Al. We need to get working."

Albus rolled over, the sheet slipping and revealing his pale, freckled chest. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he asked, "What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock. Where were you last night?"

Slipping out of bed, Albus replied, "I went home to see Ariana and do some thinking."

Gellert's eyes twinkled, and he grabbed Albus by the hips, pulling him toward him. "Good thoughts, I hope," he said and pressed a kiss to Albus' lips. Sensing minimal reaction, Gellert pulled back. "What's wrong?"

Albus stepped away from Gellert's embrace, looking for his trousers. "Gell, is what we're planning the right thing to do?"

"What do you mean? You were so enthusiastic about this. What has changed?" Gellert looked at Albus, a look of confusion clearly showing on his face.

"I've been talking to my brother—"

"Aberforth! Gellert spat. "Again with Aberforth! It's always the same thing...you go home to see your sister, and you come back spouting some namby pampy crap about how we all have to get along with the Muggleborn filth! They attacked your sister for Merlin's sake! Your father went to prison because of those Mudbloods!"

"I know, I KNOW!" cried Albus. "You have no need to remind me of what happened to my sister. I see it every time I go home!"

Albus was silent a moment, running his hand through his hair before he spoke again. "Gellert," he placed his hands on Gellert's arms and rubbed them reassuringly, "I need...I need to leave. For good. Ariana is getting worse. Since my mother died, she has not been well, and Aberforth is having trouble making ends meet. I must go to them."

"But what about what we planned? The formula? The method? Us?"

Squeezing Gellert's shoulders and then dropping his hands, Albus sighed. "Gell, I can't. I can't do this anymore. Aberforth needs me to help him, and...and he has said some things that are true...things I hadn't thought of before. Gell, I love you, but I can't go through with this anymore."

Gellert stood, breathing heavily, sneering at his lover. "You were so on board with this. We _planned_ everything down to the day and time...no detail left undone. The world would have been ours for the taking! How dare you do this to me...how dare you break my dreams apart!"

"And my family should be less important than your dream?" Albus asked incredulously. "Gell, it was wonderful; the researching, the planning...knowing and loving you. But the week I spent at my home has opened my eyes. You are not the same man I met all those months ago. You've changed. It frightens me."

Gellert furiously flung a table out of his way as he advanced on Albus. "You said you'd be with me always. Does the end of our plans mean the end of us, too?"

Albus looked at his lover his heart breaking at what he knew was the right thing to do. "Sometimes, we must let our dreams go, Gell. For the greater good."

"THIS was going to be for the greater good, Al. We were going to rule the world!"

"No, we were going to enslave the world and why? Because Muggles simply don't have magic? No, Gell. I see things differently now. I need to leave. I need to leave you."

Gellert grabbed Albus and pulled him close, burying his head in the taller man's neck. "No, Al. Please, give it another chance; give us another chance."

Rubbing his hands on Gellert's back, he said, "No. I must go. I have an errand at Hogwarts, and then I'll come back and pack my things. I'll be gone before dinner time tonight."

Gellert ripped himself out of the embrace. "You're making a mistake," he screamed. "All of this would have been ours forever. You'll see, Albus. We would have been kings." Gellert stormed out the door, running as fast as he could.

"No, Gel, never kings...only jesters among the crowd," said Albus to the empty room.

* * *

A few hours later, Albus sat in the library at Hogwarts as rain slashed at the windows nearby. His mind was racing even as his heart was hurting. While his head told him that breaking with Gellert was the right thing to do, his heart told him another. Between being watched by the Ministry and the demands of his family, he was frantic, nearly manic, about what to do, how to solve this problem.

He decided to hide his diary, filled with his research notes and thoughts, before the Ministry found it. Once he had copied everything, he destroyed his notes and any samples he had. He had thought about hiding it in several places, but Hogwarts would be the best place for it. He knew of a place within the Restricted Section of the library that was dark, dusty, and not usually seen by students.

He had convinced Headmaster Dippet to allow him to visit the library under the guise that he needed some Transfiguration texts from the Restricted Section as part of his research. He feverishly prefaced the events into the diary. How they met, their interactions with Nicholas Flamel. Albus stopped writing long enough to consider how painful it was deceiving that wonderful man. He had continued to work with Nicholas while at the same time perverting his wonderful discoveries for the benefit of mankind to bring about the downfall of Muggles.

Returning to the diary, he made annotations to the method of delivery, how long they figured it would take before the first mutations would occur, and the final realisation that mankind was doomed. They had planned how they would provide the 'miracle cure' and wield its distribution; they would hold a lottery each year and allow only so many couples to have the cure, carefully keeping control of the population.

Albus spelled it all out and once it was down, it made horrific reading. He should destroy it, he really should, but instead he placed the in the diary in an envelope and sealed it shut. Deep within the recesses of the Restricted Section, in the very back where it is dark and unused, he Disillusioned the diary, and then stooping to the lowermost shelf, he tucked it between the wall and shelf. The other books would hide it the slight shimmer from the Disillusionment, and a well placed Distraction Spell would keep curious onlookers from finding out.

Albus walked slowly up the path that led to Flamel's house with a heavy heart. The rain had stopped and watery sunshine filled the sky. He only needed to pack and leave. Perhaps, later on, he could re-petition Nicolas to allow him to continue studying with him.

As he approached the house, he noticed it was quiet...too quiet. Something was wrong; he could feel it. He opened the door to the kitchen carefully and peered into the room; all seemed in order. As he stepped across the threshold, however, a voice shouted, "_Petrificus Totalis"_. Albus was frozen.

"Take him over there," a voice directed. "The others are in the dining room. Clemens should be just about done with the Oblivation there. He'll come in to get started here. Well, Mr. Dumbledore, what do you have to say?"

Albus blinked. The auror lifted the spell, but bound him in ropes.

"What are you doing?" Albus shouted. "Have you hurt them?"

"No, we have not hurt them; we have, however, made a few changes. You're not stupid, Mr. Dumbledore, I suspect you know why this is happening?"

Albus hung his head. "Aye, I do."

"You'll cooperate?"

"Yes."

"Good, that makes things easier. Is there anything we should know before I do this? Anything not here that should be?"

Albus didn't look at the auror for fear his eyes would give it away. "No, you should find it all here."

An Unspeakable came into the room from the main part of the house. "You got Dumbledore?"

"Yes; he's cooperative so there's no need for roughness. Remember only the memories of the potion; nothing else!"

"Yes, sir."

Albus woke up several hours later. He had a headache and wondered why he had fallen asleep so early. He left the attic bedroom to find Gellert at the research table.

"Hey sleepy, 'bout time you got up. Nicolas left us some work to do." Gellert used his quill to point to a sheaf of parchment.

Albus shuffled over to the table and picked up the list left by Flamel. "More alchemy runes to work on."

"Yes. I got some started, you want to see?"

"Sure. Where are Nicolas and Perenelle?"

"They are lying down; neither felt well this afternoon."

"I know how they feel. Perhaps we ate something at lunch?"

"Perhaps; I am a little off myself." With that, the boys got to work on their assignments.

* * *

Albus returned from his home in Godric's Hollow in a sombre mood. He and Aberforth had fought again about Gellert and his 'ideals'. However, this time, Abe presented him with a bit of pub gossip that began to gnaw at his subconscious.

As much as Albus loved Gellert, he realised that what started out as enthusiasm over shared philosophies had become perverted and Albus was unsure—no, certain—that he simply could not follow through with Gellert's 'beautiful new world order' that he so neatly described to him.

Aberforth had told Albus that the locals around Godric's Hollow had heard there were Ministry folk sniffing around Flamel's place and the village.

Aside from the rumours was Albus' fear about his missing diary. He simply could not fathom how he had lost it. He remembered he had it when he went to Hogwarts to do the research on transfiguring alchemy runes; he had gotten permission from Headmaster Dippet to use the Restricted Section. Having not found the diary among his belongings, he decided to head to Hogwarts in a few days to see if it was there. In the meantime, another decision that broke his heart had been made; he was going to break things off with Gellert.

He knew that Gellert was planning to leave Flamel's tutelage in the next month to begin his journey to find the Deathly Hallows; he had a contact at Durmstrang he felt would be helpful, and this contact was as eager as Gellert to begin the hunt. Albus decided that after speaking with Gellert, he would asked for a few weeks off from Flamel's. He was sure he could use Ariana's illness as an excuse. He would return to Flamel at a later date, hopefully with a fresh frame of mind, and continue his studies. It would delay his apprenticeship with Transfiguration master Garrison, but Flamel would hopefully smooth the waters as far as that was concerned.

Albus opened the door to the lab and walked in. He saw Gellert at the table, writing in his journal.

"Gellert," Albus called quietly.

"Hello, Al. You're back early." Gellert dipped his quill into his inkpot. "Everything okay at home?"

"Yes, yes it is, thanks for asking." Albus stepped to the side of the table opposite Gellert and cleared his throat. "Look , Gellert. We need to talk."

Gellert looked at Albus. "Yes? What about?"

"I think we should break things off."

A month later, Albus was at Godric's Hollow, taking care of Ariana while Aberforth was out. Ariana was cuddled next to him, listening as Albus read, when a knock at the door interrupted them.

"Look at the pictures, Ari, I'll be right back."

Albus opened to the door and was shocked to see Gellert. "What do you want?"

"You. I want you back. Why did you leave?" Gellert stepped into the room.

"No, Gellert. I can't. Your ideas are too much; I told you before! I can't abide them."

"Why not; you were so willing before?"

"Because he's not a fool, that's why!" Both men turned to the new voice in the room; Aberforth had returned. "Get out of here. You're not wanted here."

"This is between me and Albus."

"I believe he'd told you he wanted nothing more to do with you." Aberforth walked further into the room and put his bundles down. "Where is Ariana?" he asked Albus.

"In the sitting room; I left her reading a book." Aberforth nodded.

Gellert spoke again. "You should not have left Albus; I gave you everything I had, and you used me."

"I used you no more than you used me. I can't do this anymore. You must leave."

"NO!" Gellert pulled out his wand. The other two men drew their wands as well. "You said you'd follow me, and we'd bring superiority to the world. You said you'd smash down the Muggles with me."

"Not anymore, Gell. It's wrong... your ideas are wrong."

The two began shouting back and forth, not realizing that Ariana had come from the sitting room.

Aberforth growled at Geller to leave. Gellert shouted at him to mind his own business and threw a _Crucio_ in his direction. Ariana's shout brought Albus' attention to the fact she was in the room.

"Ariana, go to your room at once!" he screamed.

Ariana, who had never heard her brother shout at her, instantly became distressed. She spied Aberforth on the floor, whimpering in pain and ran to him.

Gellert saw this and aimed his wand at the girl. Aberforth, who had just enough strength to lift his wand, sent a spell at Gellert. At the same moment, Albus too had sent a spell. In the next few moments, the three were throwing hexes around. It ended with Gellert blasted a hole in the wall and ran.

Albus panted heavily, not quite aware of what was happening on the floor until a shout of "Ariana, NO!" screamed through his brain. He turned.

The afternoon sun was high overhead, and the two men sat stunned as their dead sister lay between them.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello and welcome back to the story! We've finished the 'prologue' to the story and are now far removed from the events of 1902/1903. We visit with Hermione and Severus for a while and then move onward again to 2001 in the next chapter. Enjoy!

I do not own the Harry Potter Universe, but am frightfully glad that JK Rowling has allowed us to play about.

* * *

**December 1996**

Hermione knew it was growing late, and she should head back to her dormitory, but she was certain there just had to be at least one more reference she could find about memory charms, and she was determined to find it before sneaking back to Gryffindor Tower. She wandered through the darkest area of the Restricted Section—her status as prefect and being brightest witch of the age meant McGonagall had no problem handing over the pass for her to use—to where the oldest and least used books lay shelved. Her wand gave only enough light to see the titles, thankful for the spell she had learnt to attune the luminosity of _Lumos_ and thus avoid any light being detected by anyone passing by the library doors.

She had squatted to look at a bottom shelf; the books were in disarray here, some standing upright as they should be, others lying on their sides. She had pulled several books out of their slots, looking at the titles: _Firmament and You; Your Guide to Growing Top Notch Beans_; _Amore; Love Potions Gone Wrong,_ to name a few. She snorted and placed the books to one side. Pulling two more off the shelf in resigned hope, she noticed a bulky package slide into view. Reaching into the dark recess, shuddering slightly as her fingers touched the sticky cobwebs covering the dirty object, she pulled it toward her, blowing on it lightly. A cloud of dust caused her to sneeze before she could muffle the noise. She listened hard to see if she had been discovered, but after a moment or two, she felt safe to continue.

She quickly walked back to the table she had been using, and opened the book. Her mouth gaped in surprise at the title page: Property of Albus PBJ Dumbledore, 1902. Feverishly, she began scanning the entries, becoming more confused as she did so. This was _not_ the Dumbledore she knew. Flipping back to the beginning of the diary, she read the first entry:

_3 June 1902_

_Dear Old Friend,_

_I have settled in at Flamel's. Quite a day! Nicolas and Perenelle are very nice and welcomed me with open arms. Perenelle is a grandmotherly sort and concerned at supper that I was just 'skin and bones' and needed 'fed up'. _

_For a man of great age, Nicolas seems spry, if partially dotty. Wild white hair, eyebrows that look as though they should be plaited, and leathery skin bespeaking of much time spent in the sun. But, __his theories are astounding, and I look forward to learning alchemy with him. He is also going to oversee some of my other subjects so that I don't fall to far behind when I find an apprenticeship._

_I also met Gellert Grindlewald, a beautiful man. He is tall, blond, and good looking. He was very quiet at first, but as the hours went by, he became more animated. I believe he and I will be good friends._

_Flamel set me to work straight away. The lab is __not the neat lab of school or St. Mungo's that I had expected to see. It is glorious in its set up; cauldron upon cauldron, shelves of reference material, and one table in particular, which Nicolas calls a desk—but in actuality is a table that is nearly ready to collapse from the weight of years of detritus—that is, apparently, all quite important; books, notes, quills, scrolls of parchment, twine, bits of bread, ink pots, scarves. It would not surprise me to find a litter of kittens in amongst the clutter..._

Hermione was surprised. The Headmaster thought a boy was good looking? She shrugged her shoulders; perhaps in the early part of the century, speaking this way about men was acceptable. She flipped through the pages again and came across another entry:

_22 August 1902_

_Dear Old Friend, _

_I visited Abe and Ariana today. Abe needs money, and I have promised him I would sell one of my patents and forward him the proceeds. Ariana was in a good mood, although she did not want me to leave, but I promised I would be there for Christmas._

Hermione flipped through more pages. She saw formulae for potions and took a moment to look over the pages that mentioned dragon's blood. She knew Dumbledore was instrumental in discovering the known twelve uses, and it would be fascinating to see his thoughts and work as he tried to figure them out. As she searched for more entries about the dragon's blood, an entry caught her eye:

_3 June 1903_

_Gellert and I have had another fight. Although I agree in Muggle subordination to the Wizarding world, I am not sure I agree with his theories for their ultimate destruction. _

_I understand they are inferior, I really do, but I don't want them destroyed. Muggles are cruel and vicious, and I can recount story upon story of the injustices committed upon witches and wizards throughout history. My own darling Ariana is a victim of their cruelty. _

The next few entries made Hermione's blood run cold. _This _was not the Albus Dumbledore she knew. That man was a benevolent, kindly, grey-whiskered, candy-proffering old man. Not this young man bent on annihilation. The more she read, the more distraught she became.

So immersed in what she was looking at, it was not until a long, slender pale hand blocked her view of the page that she realized she had been discovered.

"Fifty points, Miss Granger."

Unfortunately, Snape's hand and voice startled Hermione so badly, she jumped in her chair and her head collided with his jaw. Severus groaned in pain, and Hermione grabbed her head, wincing.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione squealed. "You frightened me!"

Wiping his bloody lip with the back of his hand, he growled. "Why are you out after curfew? Has your status as part of the Golden Trio absolved you of any adherence to rules?"

"Of course not, sir." She fossicked around in her robe pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "Here." She held the semi-feminine piece of material out to him.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but took the proffered cloth and wiped his lip and chin. As he wiped, he noticed Hermione slipping something behind her back. "Hand it over, Miss Granger," he said with a bored expression.

"Oh, it's just a book, sir, nothing really." She bit her lip.

"If it's nothing, why are you trying to hide it? Hand. It. Over."

Hermione reluctantly handed it to him. He shoved her handkerchief in his robe pocket and flipped through the book. Hermione watched his eyes bulge. "How much of this did you read?" he asked, looking at her.

"Not all of it, but enough. What are we going to do?"

"_We_ are doing to do nothing. I will take care of this."

"But, sir! There is enough in there to implicate Dumbledore and possibly send him to Azkaban. Surely you're not just going to take the book and leave it for someone to find?"

"What sort of idiot do you think I am?" He sneered at her obvious idiocy concerning his intelligence.

"I'm sorry, sir. I am not thinking."

"Obviously. Regardless, return to your dormitory at once."

She looked at her professor hesitantly, really wanting to say something else, but shook her head and started to stuff her books, quills, and parchments into her bag.

"Miss Granger?" Snape asked hesitantly.

"Yes, sir?"

"You do know what it is you've read?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"I think so," she said.

"Come to my office tomorrow night at seven p.m. We will decide what to do about this knowledge at that time."

"Yes, sir." She left the library as quickly as she could and made her way back to the dorm. As she quietly got ready for bed, she mulled over what she read of the book. Dumbledore and Gellert Gridelwald had been lovers? Not only that, but they seemed involved in a plan to subjugate the Muggle world. She had been stunned at the length to which the two had researched doing it. She hadn't even realized that sort of technology had been discovered in the Muggle World. It has been quite a while since her last Muggle history class; perhaps another trip in London over the Christmas holiday was in order.

* * *

Severus sighed deeply as he sat further back in his low-backed, overstuffed black leather armchair in front of the fire, cradling a glass of fire whisky in his palm. He stared at Dumbledore's diary as it sat on the table beside him. He really didn't need another item on his mental agenda. He did not need another thing to hide from the Dark Lord, not to mention how to occlude this from Albus.

He snorted. Albus Dumbledore was not the saint he was purported to be. Severus knew he had a rather spotty past, but the man had managed to bury it amongst several other less savoury incidents in his life.

Severus also knew that Albus had had some sort of relationship with Gellert Gridelwald, but to what extent, he didn't know until he skimmed a few entries. _They had been lovers?_ Severus shrugged. Not unheard of in the Wizarding world. The pair had also worked with Nicolas Flamel to discover the twelve uses of dragon's blood, but from what Severus had read, it was more than dragon's blood that Gellert and Albus explored.

Reaching forward, Severus pulled the old leather book toward him. He opened the diary at random and read an entry. The answer to all of the Dark Lord's dreams were here; well, aside from killing Potter. It was brilliant and easy. A few simple charms, and the Muggles would never know what hit them. The Dark Lord would simply have to wait until the Muggles realized they were on the verge of extinction. Would the Dark Lord last that long though? Severus thought perhaps he might. The Horcruxes were in place, and as far as he knew—he was not privy to all of the Dark Lord's plans—no one knew where they were. Eventually, even the potions Severus made and sabotaged inconspicuously would fail to keep the man alive.

He tossed the diary onto the floor. No. Severus needed to get rid of this. Perhaps it was time to contact his old school chum, Graeme Oxtoby. Graeme was a Ravenclaw in the same year as Severus. They usually sat with one another in Charms and Arithmancy. After Hogwarts, Graeme had gone to work at the Department of Mysteries. Severus cultivated his friendship even after school; well-placed contacts were always useful.

Severus stood up and walked over to the desk in the corner of his sitting room. He pulled out a piece of parchment and quill and scribbled a quick invitation for a drink in Diagon Alley.

* * *

The next day drew to a close, Hermione's mind never far away from the words she had seen in the diary. She quickly ate dinner and giving the boys her usual 'I'll be in the library' excuse, made her way to Professor Snape's office.

"Enter," came the deep response to her knock. Hermione entered and saw Snape writing at his desk. "Sit," he commanded without looking up. She sat and looked around the room. His private office was not uncomfortable but austere; it was not a large room, so the fireplace on the one wall kept the office warm. A rather beaten but plain mahogany desk with black leather swivel chair sat in one corner across from the door. A file cabinet stood to its left and a drinks trolley to the right of the fireplace. A student's wooden chair stood in front of the desk, more than likely chosen to keep an errant student uncomfortable as well as any unwanted adult visitor from staying long. A portrait of Phineas Nigellus was hung above the fireplace, but it was currently unoccupied. Hermione sat in the chair and folded her hands in her lap. She surreptitiously studied the dour man in front of her.

He was bent to his task, nose close to the parchment as he wrote. _Perhaps he needs glasses, _Hermione thought. His hair hung in greasy lanks about his face, the ends whispering upon the desk as his hand moved across the parchment. She knew he didn't realize he was doing it, but he chewed on the corner of one lip and sniffled as though he had a cold. His sudden throwing down of his quill brought her quickly to attention.

Severus reached into the top drawer of the desk and pulled out the leather book that carried such ghastly secrets. "Miss Granger, I've had a chance to look through this diary a little more." Hermione nodded. "As you more than likely ascertained, the information within it would certainly set the Wizarding world on its ear."

"No doubt."

He set the book down and leant back in the chair, considering the girl in front of him. It was only now that he realized that the eleven-year-old girl who had driven to him drink after her very first potions class ever, was turning into an attractive young woman. Her face was thin, and vestiges of baby fat still padded her cheek bones, but it was fairly obvious, even under the bulky school robes, that she had reached maturity. Her eyes were expressive, and the colouring was a deep brown. Her hair seemed to be under control these days, but he suspected it had less to do with her charming it and more the fact that its length—nearly to her waist—weighed it down and kept it from springing up into its former nest-like state. He had seen a few of the sixth year boys taking second looks at her, his Slytherins included. The Dunderheaded Duo seemed oblivious to the changes in their female sidekick although he did notice that the ginger jerk seemed to be a bit moony around her. Shaking himself from his musings, he continued, "You are also aware, or at least having an inkling of, my status as a Death Eater?"

"Not wholly, no. I know that you were one once and that you came to Dumbledore with information that placed your life at risk. Beyond that, I am uncertain where you stand. Others say—"

"I am sure you've had an earful about what others may say," Severus cut across her. "It is true, Miss Granger, I am a Death Eater."

Hermione took a deep breath. _Okay, Death Eater. All right_.

Severus watched her reaction; she was such an open book. "Oh, calm yourself down, girl," he snapped. "I am unlikely to murder a student however much a pain in my arse he or she is. Nor am I likely to turn a student over to the Dark Lord, even one as close as you are to Harry Potter. I am a spy, Miss Granger. A spy for the Order."

"So you're on our side?" she asked, looking confused.

"Yes."

"Oh." The relief on her face was palpable.

"Indeed."

"So what does all this have to do with the diary?"

"I could very easily turn this diary straight over to the Dark Lord."

"You wouldn't!" she gasped.

"Are you so sure?"

Hermione couldn't answer; she really couldn't be sure. The spy game was something she had no clue about the rules. "But you said you were a spy for the Order. Surely you would turn it over to them?"

"And humiliate Dumbledore? Break his trust with those he commands? Please, I thought you were bright. The members of the Order hang on the man's every order, to their detriment at times."

He watched the girls' face as he spoke. _Yes,_ he sneered, _she too believes the man to be infallible despite what she's read_. "We will turn it over to the ministry," Severus said. "I have a contact in the Department of Mysteries that will make sure this is properly taken care of."

"I will go with you."

"You will not."

"I need to be sure that you will do exactly as you said you would."

"You do not trust me?" Severus asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Yes, I do, but I do not trust the situation. You are too well known."

The pair sat, arms crossed, looking at each other.

"Very well, Severus said. "I will let you know when I have made arrangements to meet my contact. We will apparate to his location and back. You will tell no one about this."

"Of course, sir."

"I cannot emphasise the importance that you do not reveal what I have told you about my status tonight, nor about this book."

"You have my word, Professor Snape; no one shall learn of this meeting from me." She looked straight at him.

He begrudgingly acknowledged her word with a tip of his head and grunted, "You are dismissed."

Hermione turned to leave, snatching up her bag as she did so. "Good night, Professor Snape."

He waved her off dismissively and sat back down. He placed the book back into his desk and warded it tightly. With a final shrug of his shoulders, he waved his hand and the candles went out. He knew his way to the door in the dark and was soon striding to his quarters.

* * *

A week later during Potions class, Snape walked past the table where Hermione was working, 'stumbled' into her, and immediately took points as he accused her of tripping him. When she went to argue, he gave her a detention for that evening. "See me after class to discuss the time of your detention." With a whirl of his robes, he returned to his desk and sat down imperiously.

When class ended, the students hurried to pack their belongings and flee the room. Harry and Ron attempted to communicate silently to Hermione their willingness to run interference between her and their professor, but with a shake of her head, she dismissed their plea and waved them out of the room. "I'll only be a moment," she told the boys.

Slinging her book bag over her shoulder, she approached Professor Snape's desk. "What time is my detention, sir?"

Severus looked up at the young woman. "You will meet me tonight at half seven. I will Disillusion you, and we will walk to the main gates. From there, we will apparate to the Ministry. I am to meet my contact at 7 p.m. Change into your Muggle clothes; I am sure you remember form your last trip to the Ministry," he sneered pointedly, "we will need to walk in Muggle London for a short time.

Hermione winced at the mention of the doomed rescue mission to the Ministry last year.

"We will enter the Ministry in the usual manner and proceed to my contact's office. You will be absolutely quiet while I turn over the diary. You will forget anything you hear; if you can't, I will not hesitate to Obliviate you. Any questions?"

"None, sir."

"Very good. Do not be late, I will leave without you."

"Yes, sir."

Hermione left, hurrying along to get to Transfiguration before she was late. The rest of the afternoon went quickly, but she was distracted, and it took several attempts by Harry and Ron to get her to tell them what the greasy git wanted as they walked to dinner.

Dismissively, she replied, "Oh, the usual; be there at seven, scrub cauldrons, you know."

Severus watched the trio walk into the Great Hall at dinner. He pushed the potatoes on his plate through the gravy from his roast, but he did not eat any of it. He did not want to take Miss Granger off grounds tonight. What if he were called by his other Master? He had no worries that Dumbledore would find out. Severus did not practice his Occlumency daily, hourly in fact, for no reason. There were plenty of secrets Dumbledore did not find out in their weekly meetings.

Severus glanced at the headmaster. How could the man he knew have been the man in the diary? Well, scratch that; he knew. When you are angry at the world for wrongs committed against you, it's easy to fall under the sweet seduction of anyone who can offer you revenge and glory. Albus Dumbledore fell into that trap set by Gellert Grindlewald, and Severus fell into the trap laid by Voldemort.

Shaking his head, he dropped his fork with a clatter, drank the last of whatever was in his goblet, and stood up quickly. He left the hall in a billow, but not without casting a meaningful glance at the bushy-headed girl—no, woman—seated at the Gryffindor table.

It was a cold, clear evening when the Potions master and his Disillusioned student left the warmth of the castle. There was no discussion between except for the curt commands Hermione was given before Severus opened the castle doors.

"Do not speak, do not ask questions," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Their feet crunched on the layer of dry snow that had fallen over the last few days. At last they reached the gate, and Severus waved his wand and mumbled the incantation to release the locking mechanism on the latch. The gates swung open, and the pair slipped through. Severus waved his wand again, closing the gates.

They walked a few hundred yards more when Severus stopped. "Miss Granger, Apparate to Charing Cross road just a few yards up from the call box. You remember that from your 'trip' last year?" he sneered.

"Um, yes, sir. But—"

"But what; we must go so we are not late!"

"I don't know how to Apparate yet; we don't get those classes until Spring."

With a huff, Severus reached out to find and grab the Disillusioned Hermione by her arms, pulled her to his chest and Apparated away.

They landed short of Charing Cross Road and as soon as Hermione was no longer dizzy, Severus let her go, removed the Disillusionment, and began to walk. He could hear Hermione trotting to keep up with his long stride. It only took ten minutes to walk from the open spaces of noisy street to a quieter, less well maintained alleys. Severus darted down one such alley, where a row of run down offices stood. There was a call box near the middle of the street and it was toward that Severus walked, Hermione nearly out of breath as she followed.

Severus opened the door to the call box and sneered, "Ladies first."

Hermione stepped in and squeezed herself into a corner to make room for the Professor. He snatched the handle and dialled six-two-four-four-two. The feminine voice of the operator asked, "Name and reason?"

With a grunt, Severus spoke, "Professor Severus Snape and Miss Hermione Granger; we are expected.

With a clunk and clank, two badges fell out of the coin slot as the floor of the call box began to descend.

The Ministry was relatively empty as the pair left the phone booth and walked to the lifts. Severus and Hermione were quiet as they entered an empty one. Severus muttered the number that would take down to the level where the Department of Mysteries was located.

The lift chugged slowly as it descended. Hermione was certain that at any moment, the cable would snap, and they would plunge to their deaths.

Severus chuckled and said, "Miss Granger we will not plunge to our deaths. These lifts have been in operation for over fifty years."

"Did you just use Legilimency on me?"

"I didn't need to. I see how tense you are by the wrinkles on your forehead."

Her hand flew to her forehead to ascertain her wrinkle status. "I . Do. Not. Have. Wrinkles!" she hissed.

"I didn't say you did, but we have arrived so please, be quiet."

The lift indeed clanged to a halt and the door slid slowly open.

"Do they not even know about oil in the Wizarding world?" Hermione mumbled.

"They tried once; the maintenance department managed to get a hold of some oil about twenty years ago. However, they didn't know how to apply it and went with the adage that if a little is good, a lot must be even better. St. Mungo's was inundated with witches and wizards with broken bones."

Hermione giggled at Severus' anecdote, earning herself an exasperated glare.

"Settle down, Miss Granger. We are almost there."

"Who is it we're going to see?"

"Graeme Oxtoby; we were in the same year at Hogwarts. He has been a useful source of information for me in my line of work."

Hermione steps faltered. "Do you mean he is a Death Eater, too? A spy in their camp within the Ministry?"

"No, Miss Granger, he is not. Here is his department now." Severus stopped before a nondescript door and knocked.

After several moments, the door opened and a man with brown hair and a slim face appeared. He smiled widely and said, "Severus! Good to see you!"

Severus extended his hand, which was grasped by the man. "Graeme, how are you?"

"Please come in." He noticed Hermione and a brief moment of consternation crossed his face. "Who is this lovely lady with you?"

"This is Miss Granger. She found the item I owled you about earlier. She was rather...concerned about its disposal."

"How do you do, Miss Granger?" Graeme held out his hand and Hermione shook it.

"I am well, thank you."

He turned to Severus. "Well now, you have the item?"

"I do." He patted a pocket in his robe.

"Very good; let's go into my private office and we'll talk. Tea?"

"That would be welcome," Severus said.

Graeme walked ahead of the pair and opened the door to his personal office. Stepping to the side, holding the door, he said, "Come in, come in!"

Snape allowed Hermione to go first, and he quickly followed. His head snapped up when he heard Hermione gasp in shock and fall to the floor. Before he could react, his world went black.

Graeme shut the door and turned to the two men behind him. "Are you sure they won't wake up before we get them into the treatment room?"

The larger of the two men spoke first. "We only stunned them; they'll wake up in about twenty minutes on their own. Snape probably before then; his magic signature is strong, and it is known that he can counteract most of the more benign curses."

"What about the girl?" Graeme asked.

"We didn't know he was bringing her. If this is the Hermione Granger who is Potter's best friend, then she is magically strong as well. I suggest we move quickly."

"Very well then," said Graeme. "Martin, you take the girl, Andrews and I will take Snape."

The man named Martin scooped up Hermione. "She's quite a bird, eh?" He leered at the girl in his arms.

"She is just barely of age, you idiot. Retract your libido; we don't have time."

Andrews started to pick up Severus. "Oof; I'll trade 'ya. He's heavier than he looks."

"All right," snapped Graeme, "enough jabbering. We need to hurry. Levitate him onto the gurney if he is too heavy to carry. As soon as we get to the treatment room, we'll need to put them into stasis. I doubt we'll be able to access Snape's mind without it. We will need somebody to Legilimize the girl though. I've no idea what the hell we'll do with her."

"The plan was only to modify Snape's memory and replant him, right?" asked Andrews

"Yes. Perhaps there'll be something we can use from the girl. I don't know. Come, we've a long night ahead of us."

The treatment room was dark and shadowy. Its overall atmosphere was that of operating room. In the middle of the room were two gurneys, each holding a body. There were several men and women moving around the room drifting from the gurneys to tables along the edges, making notes and turning pages to reference procedure and plans.

One man stood at the head of the gurney where Hermione's body lay. Although she was in deep stasis, her eyes had been magically opened so that the man staring at her with grave concentration could use Legilimency. He had been at it for nearly thirty minutes.

Near the other table, vials stood by at the ready on a smallish wheeled cart. Two people would open the vials, wave their wands over the opening and with an incantation, lift a silvery thread from the bottle. It would be dragged to Snape's head and magical integrated.

Graeme Oxtoby stalked between both tables anxiously. "How much longer? What's the progress?"

A woman spoke from the head of Snape's gurney. "We've just about finished. We've managed to subjugate all of Snape's past and present memories from the hippocampus, prefrontal, entorhinal and perihinal cortices, the cerebellum, and the striatum. We were able to... cordon off, if you will, part of the occipital lobe to lay them in for storage. Since the occipital lobe mostly controls visual processing, we can keep his memories stored there with little difficulty."

"Why not remove them altogether?"

"It is one thing to remove a few memories or even Obliviate them; however, to remove so many memories at once and then reintegrate new memories_ and _a new persona could incapacitate him. You must remember, we need to overlay the new information we are inputting with the old memories; we need to bend them, manipulate them so that he perceives the memories of his old life as the new identity we've created."

The woman moved away from the gurney and closer to Graeme. "For example, we have discovered that as a child, Severus Snape was beaten quite often by his father and his mother was helpless to do anything. In his new persona, he will have the same memory, but will remember it as this new persona rather than as Severus Snape. That was the easier part of the memory modification. The harder part is creating his school years and the events in his life since then.

"We managed, through intensive study of the Muggle world, to be able to create an entire lower class upbringing for him; school years, university, a new job. It has been a tremendous help that we can manipulate his knowledge of Potions and Wizarding science with the similar field in the Muggle world."

"So, instead of Severus Snape Potions master, he is...?"

"Michael Lawson, registered Pharmacist. In the Muggle world, a pharmacist mixed elixirs and compounds among other things. We've manipulated and modified Snape's memories of events in his school years. However, we did encounter something unique." The woman tapped the clipboard she had been holding as if hesitant to bring the issue up.

"Unique? Will it cause a problem? Graeme asked.

"It seems that Snape had some things he didn't want anyone to see...ever. He has already manipulated those memories. We couldn't not remove them. I believe that this shouldn't be a problem because only as Snape would he know how to access them. As Mike Lawson, he would have no idea he had done it and have no knowledge of how to retrieve those memories. For Mike Lawson, they will just be wild dreams he has."

"What about his spy duties?"

"Those memories have not been modified. They simply did not fit into the persona we created. Those are part of the memories that are hidden in the occipital lobe."

"Thank you; you've worked hard, I know. But it is vitally important to the Wizarding world that none of the information these two have gets into the wrong hands. Graeme moved to Hermione's gurney and looked at the man who was currently entranced in Hermione's brain. He turned to another man just to his left. "How much longer?"

"Another few minutes I think," the man answered.

There was nothing more Graeme could do while he waited. He stepped away from the tables to review a few charts nearby. He sighed. He regretted doing what he did to his old friend. But the information Snape had was too explosive for him to retain knowledge of, especially because he had to regularly appear in front of the You-Know-Who. Although Severus was a master Occlumens, it would only take him being under Crucio long enough to sizzle his brain and then You-Know-Who would swoop in and rape his mind for information, leaving Severus a vegetable, if he wasn't killed right after.

The girl was a variable that he wasn't expecting. If he hadn't had this source of memory relocation available to him, he would have had to Obliviate her and send her back to Hogwarts where Dumbledore surely would have suspected something. Even the best Obliviates leave a residue behind that a man with as keen an eye as Dumbledore would have seen.

"I'm done." Graeme heard a voice say.

"Dietrich," he said to the Legilimens, "what did you find out?"

"This girl has a magnificent brain. I've never seen anything so organized in my life. Even Snape's brain isn't this organized; he hides things behind walls and within water, but this girl...I can't even begin to describe it. However it is also her shortfall."

"How so?"

"Because she is so organized, all I needed to do was figure out her system. Once I did that, I could follow the trails, so to speak, from one memory to another."

"Okay, but how does that help us?"

"Well, like Snape here, we can alter the memories and implant the new ones around them. We can change her identity just like we're doing with Snape. However, there is a snag."

"Snag? Snag? We don't need a bloody snag, Dietrich!"

"Easy does it, Oxtoby. It's one we can overcome, it'll just take a bit longer to change her identity. She has parents."

"So?"

"Parents who will miss the young woman when she doesn't show up at home for the Christmas holidays. I could see in her mind that is what she planned."

"So how do we circumvent this?" asked Graeme.

"I discovered something else while I was in her mind."

"Yes?"

"She is planning to send her parents away. She knows that her knowledge of and friendship with Harry Potter has put her family at risk. She plans to modify their memories and send them to Australia."

"Well, can't we do that? Send them to Australia, I mean."

"I don't think we should. We can use it to our advantage. We can use the information the Granger girl has to help us change the identity of her parents and plant her at home with them as their daughter. They'll have no memory of a witch in the family, and Miss Granger will have no knowledge of Dumbledore's diary or a school called Hogwarts. Just like Snape there." Dietrich pointed to the wizard on the gurney.

"Do we know where her parents live?"

Oh, yes. I've seen it all in her brain.

"Okay, get Elgie Withers and Carston Bates to get the parents. Bring them here. Modify their memories. I want this done by morning! By that time, I am sure Dumbledore will have noticed he is short a teacher and a student."

Dietrich said, "But what about the girl's parents? I have seen that they have a career as something called 'dentists'. Surely we can't send them back to what they usually do."

"Relocate them along with the girl. I don't care how you do it or what you come up with, just do it!"

* * *

Graeme pressed his wand to the door of his house and entered. He was bone tired. He made his way to the sofa and threw himself down on it. Letting out a whoosh of breath, he covered his face with this arm and closed his eyes.

The department had modified memories before and had experimented with creating new personas, but they had never done anything on such a scale. It was damned hard. The Muggles were the easiest as they had no Occlumency skills at all and their memories tended to lose colour and sensibility as the years passed. Hermione Granger's memories were a bit more organized secondary to her being a witch and so bloody brilliant.

Severus Snape took the longest to do. His ability to Occlude made it hard for the group to access and reorient his memories. It took nearly six hours until Severus Snape no longer existed. The Grangers only took about four hours. The Muggles and Snape had been woken briefly while in the treatment room to test the extent and the transfer at this point in time, it seemed a success. Once Snape was put back under, his Dark Mark had to be dealt with. The woman who explained the memory removal process had suggested the easiest solution was a skin graft; she had implanted into Snape's memory the idea of a car accident to explain Snape's multiple scars; this would be a logical thing to do...cover the mark and explain it away as part of his injuries in the accident.

Around three-thirty that morning, Snape and the Grangers were moved from the Department of Mysteries to their new home in Snape's case and back to the Granger's home in Hermione's case. It took another few hours to plant them into their new homes and lives and leave no trace of the subterfuge behind. When Snape and the Grangers, now the Wilkins, woke up on a few hours, they would fit seamlessly into Muggle society; home, careers, clothing, memories and all.

Graeme had only thing left to take care of; the file. Within the Department of Mysteries was a file room that only a few people had access to, he being one of them. Tomorrow morning he would move the file, currently sitting in the false bottom of his desk, to the file room and be done with it. He also needed to make sure that all the files regarding the memory project were filed as well. If anyone found out what had been done, the havoc that would follow would mean the end to his career and possibly a trip to Azkaban.

He rolled off the couch and headed for his bedroom. The large bed was enticing him to forgo his nightly routine of a shower before he slipped beneath the covers and for once, he gave in. He shucked his clothes quickly and pulled back the duvet. Even before his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

* * *

Patrick Slownby levitated three new desks in front of him. _The last three, he said. Been at it all night. Who the bloody Merlin decided the entire Department of Mysteries_ _needed new desks? _He looked at the clipboard floating in front of him. The next desk was to go in Graeme Oxtoby's office. He arrived at Oxtoby's door, and magically opened it. He levitated the old desk out of the way and levitated the new on in its place. He magically moved all the items on top of the desk to the new and opened the drawers to move the remaining items by hand. He Levitated Graeme's old desk to the cart and looked at the clipboard. _Blast; the rest need to go up the Atrium level._

Patrick hated the freight lift; it was open on all sides and he always feared he'd fall off it_. Ah well; get these delivered, and I am done for the night. _

* * *

Oxtoby strolled into his office the next morning, only an hour late. As head of the department he worked at within the Department of Mysteries, such liberties were overlooked. He had his mind on the most important task of his day; getting the diary of Albus Dumbledore to the secure file room. He sat at his desk and pulled the waiting cup of coffee toward him. His secretary knew exactly how he liked it and had it waiting under a Stasis charm every morning.

It was as he flipped the date page from yesterday to today that he noticed it. The clip he used to hold back the mountain of pages from the previous months was missing. It annoyed him to no end that the pages would flip back and cover the current day's schedule, so he had found a Muggle binder clip to hold those pages down. Now it was missing. He couldn't remember having taken it off again after his morning ritual of moving the new days' page into view. He scrabbled around on the desk to see if it had slid under something. He stood and looked at the floor.

"Checking out your new desk, Mr. Oxtoby?" asked Helen, his secretary, who walked with in plate of biscuits.

"New desk?"

"Oh yes, maintenance replaced and removed the old ones last night. They're going down into storage; never to be seen again as usual around here." Helen laughed; it was a well known fact that once something went to storage, it usually never surfaced again.

Frantically, Graeme thanked Helen for the biscuits and bade her to leave. Once the door clicked shut, he warded and silenced the room.

"Buggering fucking shite," he said, as he pulled open the drawer he _thought_ he had magically configured the night before to hide the Dumbledore file. Once the drawer was open, he waved his wand to reveal the hidden bottom. Nothing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he yelled. If anyone found that file, his career was over. As he wiped his hand down his face, Helen's words come back to him: _They're going down into storage; never to be seen again as usual around here._

He sat up. Perhaps…just perhaps he'd be lucky. It _was _true; once something went to storage, it never came back up. He relaxed a bit. He doubted his department would be questioned at all in what was sure to be a panic over a missing student and professor. No, he'd just sit back and play it cool and concerned if he was asked anything at all.

Yes, calm and concerned. He took a sip of his coffee and saw that his next task on the day was a visit to St. Mungo's to see how the new curse damage wing was coming along.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for all the reviews! **

**A few of you had some rather thought provoking questions for me, so I will be taking those thoughts into consideration as I review my drafts and make edits. Some of the ideas I simply do not have the desire to explore in detail, but will consider them as I work; this entire story is pretty much written/sketched out. Your questions may not be answered over the next several chapters, because let's face it...I wanted to just have a bit of fun, write some smut, and move the plot forward. I will not be going into a great deal of detail at this point about what happened between 1996 and 2001. Let's just assume Hermione and Severus fell seamlessly into their new personae as Janine Wilkins and Michael Lawson, m'kay?**

**Horcruxes...my research indicated that canon Hermione more than likely did not have knowledge of the Horcrux until January 1997 or later; at least my review of HBP shows that Dumbledore did not show Harry the fuzzy memory of Slughorn/Riddle until after the Christmas Holidays (source: HP Lexicon timeline search of 'horcrux'. It equates that date as January 6, 1997). This would equate to chapter 17 of HBP, and in Chapter 18 of HBP, Harry reveals to Ron and Hermione what he knows about Horcrux. Hermione disappears in early December 1996 in my story.**

**As well, after consultation of some of my HP writer friends (who've been doing this much longer than I have), we agree that that while Hermione may have known about Occlumency, she was not able to perform it. So, Hermione does not know Occlumency in my story. **

**The more explicit version of this chapter can be found on The Maple Bookshelf, WIKTT, and AO3.**

**I do not own Harry Potter and his universe. JK Rowling does. Rats.**

* * *

**April 2001**

"Hey Paddy! I need three specials on table four!" Janine Wilkins hollered over the counter to the cook as she slapped an order slip down onto the counter. Hair bouncing, she kept moving and went over to her next table.

"Miss, is my sandwich ready?" a man asked as she passed.

"I'm sorry sir," she said quickly. "We're short staffed, but I'll get your order as soon as I see what that gent wants," she said, pointing to the corner.

Hurrying away, she arrived at the corner table. "Good day, sir, what can I get for you?" Janine poised her pencil on top her order pad and looked at the man. With a smile she said, "You're new here; I know most of the customers."

The dark haired man with a somewhat large nose gave her a small smile in return. "I've just moved in. I work at the chemist round the corner."

"That's lovely. Welcome to the neighbourhood; hope you like it! What can I get you? The special is bacon butty, chips and a drink for £3.50.

"No thanks. I'll just have the soup and coffee."

Janine scribbled on her order pad and then shoved it in her apron pocket. "Would you like a roll with that?" The customer nodded. "Okay. Be right back." She turned and headed to the kitchen again. "I need a soup for table six. Is that sandwich ready for table five? The git's pestering me about it."

"Here ya' go!" Paddy slid a plate full of sandwich and crisps toward Janine, who snatched the plate and rushed to the table.

"Here you are, sir, and again, I am sorry it took so long." The man grunted and waved her away.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned to begin clearing a few of the empty tables. Only a half hour to go and the lunch rush would be over. She hummed as she worked, thinking about her upcoming Statistics class that evening. She was not keen on her course of study, if truth be told, but her parents felt it was the best thing to do. She really wanted to write, but her mother complained, 'it's so chancy... not many are successful at it'. Therefore, they encouraged her to study something sensible instead and were delighted when Janine informed them she would study maths. However, she did try to sneak in as many writing courses into her curriculum as her parents would tolerate.

Janine sighed as she saw a group of five women coming in through the door. It was the group from the Accounting Department over at Grail Standard, Inc, and the bane of the cafe's wait staff. They'd be twenty minutes deciding, send several things back, and Janine knew there'd be nothing like a modest tip when they left. Picking up the dirty dishes, she sailed to the kitchen to deposit them into the sink and then headed to the drinks station. She poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a small cow shaped pitcher of cream and headed back to the new man at the table in the corner.

"Here you are; your soup will be ready in a moment. I forgot to ask, do you want cream?"

"Yes, thank you." He smiled at Janine, who smiled back, placing the cow on the table.

"Right then," she said, and left to serve table four their butties and see if the finicky five had decided what to eat.

* * *

Five o'clock arrived, and Janine more than readily whipped off her apron and said good night. The evening staff was busily getting the café ready for the night crowd and gave her a hearty '_Ciao'_.

Stepping out the back door and into the alley, she hurriedly made her way to the main street. Looking at her watch, she realized she'd have just enough time to get home, change and head to class. With a grimace, she determined that next semester she was not taking any night classes!

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going when she suddenly ran into a body. The smell of Bergamot washed over her. "Oh, I am terribly sorry. Please forgive-" she looked up into the eyes of the man she served earlier. "Well, that's not a cheery welcome into the neighbourhood is it?" She smiled at him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I am, thank you. I was checking to see what time it was. I have a night class at half eight and was seeing how much time I had before catching the bus."

"Ah. I see. Good evening then."

The pair, without realizing it, began to head in the same direction. Janine was the first to laugh. "Are you following me?"

"It so happens I live the next street over."

"So do I!" Janine gushed.

"Indeed," said the man, eyebrow raised in question.

"My name is Janine. Janine Wilkins." She held out her hand.

"Mike Lawson." He took her and a quickly squeezed it.

"Where do you work; you said the chemist's?"

"Yes. Smythe Brothers. I just got hired on a few weeks ago. I am down from Edinburgh."

The couple continued to walk, exchanging small talk. They arrived at Janine's flat and said their goodbyes. It happened that Mike lived in the building across the street.

"Good night," said Mike as he turned to walk across the street, leaving Janine with the sudden feeling that she had met this man somewhere before. While not an overly attractive man—his long hair was a bit greasy—his voice was to die for, his eyes were expressive, and he was very well-mannered.

Slipping her key into the door of her flat, she shrugged and thought, _oh, well,_ and then hurried to get ready for class.

* * *

_The snarling creature, mouth dripping with foam, headed toward the three__ children and the man dressed in black. He hesitated only a moment before pushing the children behind him and stood, arms akimbo, to guard them. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His only thought was that the creature would attack him first and give the teens time to run. The creature moved forward, his gangrenous breath coming out in puffs, drool hanging from fangs like icicles. The man could feel the children behind him, the girl closest and trembling with fear so badly he could feel it through the layers of his cloak and robes. _

_Just as the man feared the end was moments away, a howling in the distance distracted the creature. The howl came again, and the creature suddenly bounded away. The man dropped his arms in relief, but as he turned to reprimand the children, another man running toward them distracted him. _

Mike Lawson bolted out of a sound sleep, panting and sweating. Fumbling around to find his bedside light, he switched it on. Wide eyed, he looked around his bedroom; all was as it should be. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Cold air hit his naked body, raising bumps all over. Ignoring this, he walked into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

As he wiped his face dry, he looked into the mirror. He had hoped the dreams would stop. They seemed to be worse when he lived in Edinburgh, and had all but stopped when he moved south. Something had triggered them again. Deciding to empty his bladder, he moved to the toilet and quickly took care of his needs. Once done, he washed his hands and headed back to his bed.

Mike pulled the sheet back over his hips and lay back against the pillow. He liked it here in Histon; it was small and friendly. The nearby university kept the majority of business owners happily supplied with customers, and his own shop was busy all day. He was adept at making various compounds for the pharmacy, and he oversaw the operation in an efficient manner. His employees learned pretty quickly not to get on his bad side. His glare could stop the worst of malcontents and shoplifting had dropped off sharply.

His thoughts turned to the waitress from the café where he had eaten at lunch time. Something about her was familiar; as though she was part of whatever his dreams meant. She was considerably younger than he was, probably in her first or second year of study at the nearby university. However, her curly hair and lovely brown eyes were attractive to him, and she had a very nice figure as well. His cock twitched a bit; _down boy_, Mike thought. Something about the young woman delighted him, and he decided to frequent the shop for lunch in the hope of finding out more about her.

He rolled over and tucked the pillow between his neck and shoulder. Those dreams though, he mused…he had had the same dream he had tonight several times, but he also had many other dreams of the same nature. Some were simple; he was a teacher at a magical boarding school. Mike snorted at the thought. He didn't particularly consider himself a fanciful man. Stories with fairies or magical beings had never particularly appealed to him. He never went to the cinema to see such films, although he did see _The Lord of The Rings—_which was a wonderful book and movie—but for the most part, he was not a fan of fantasy or other-worldly films.

Other dreams were even more horrifying than tonight's. Again, he was at a magical boarding school, but there was some sort of competition and a student had been killed. In this dream, after the student died, he had to return to his 'master'. He was horribly tortured with magic and by the other men at the gathering. There were dreams of gatherings where women and men were raped and tortured.

If Mike hadn't known any better, he'd swear he was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, but he'd never been in a war, nor in the military for that matter. He had picked up a book on dreams at the public library written by one of those 'new age' authors, but he didn't put much stock into what he read; reincarnation, past life experience all sounded like so much crap to him. Perhaps it all was a matter of too much reading and the overactive imagination of a bored man needing to find something to occupy his time with something that was not a book. That was a thought...and Janine Wilkins was pretty...he punched his pillow a bit and finally fell asleep.

* * *

It was eleven o'clock before Janine opened the door to her flat. She was exhausted; between homework, her job, and university, it seemed her life was a constant whirl of activity. She dropped her bag and headed toward the bathroom to wash up before heading to bed. As she passed her roommate's bedroom, the distinct sounds of shagging could be heard. She shook her head. Pam hooked up quite a bit and sometimes the result lead to sleepless nights for Janine.

Standing in front of her vanity mirror, nude, Janine brushed and braided her hair before slipping into bed. She had learned from an early age that her hair tangled horribly as she slept, so her mother began braiding it nightly and when Janine was old enough, she continued the habit. The only time she didn't braid her hair was if she was with a lover, not that that had occurred as frequently as she liked.

Settling down into bed, pulling the duvet up over herself, she began to do her nightly 'shut down' routine. She started to do this simple relaxation technique while still in secondary school as a way to shut down her overly busy mind. Taking several deep breaths, she completely tensed all of her muscles and slowly, one group by one group, relaxed them. She started with her feet and ended with her shoulders. Nicely relaxed, she allowed herself to lazily review her day. The highlight of this day was meeting the new bloke from across the street.

Mike was very handsome, she decided, and he certainly smelled good. Bergamot...she'd have to find a candle with that scent, she giggled. She figured he was a good deal older than she was, but she preferred older men. They tended to be more mature than blokes her own age were and definitely better in bed. Whereas the few boys her age she had slept with tended to be 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am', the older men she had slept with knew how to make sure she received pleasure in the process. The older men tended to be more experimental in bed as well. It was Gordon—the hygienist who worked for her parents-who introduced her to light bondage and a hitherto unknown fetish for biting.

A loud moan from the bedroom next to her made her realize it had been several months since she had last been shagged. Peter, the drummer from a local band that played in the college bars, had been his name. It was a one-night stand and was fantastic. The memory sparked her desire, and she slipped her hands to her breasts.

She replayed the memory of her night with Peter in her mind as she slowly rolled her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, but an image of another man popped into her head. The man was tall, dark haired and sexy. She concentrated on this image, replacing Peter's face with the unknown man.

Her hands moved down her body, feeling the softness of her skin. She glided them over her thighs and finally, spreading her legs, brought her fingers to touch her bare sex. Her first touch was pleasurably relaxing. She stroked herself before dipping a finger between her folds to bring wetness from her depths. The slick fluid enabled her to glide her fingers without friction, providing a subtly of pleasure. She dipped the fingers of both hands into the wetness and brought it to her nipples, rubbing them as delicately as possible before twisting them hard between her fingers. Gordon had also helped her awaken her desire for pleasurable pain, and she often could come with this sort of manipulation of just her breasts.

She returned her hands to her sex and began to stroke anew at her swollen nub with one hand while her other hand explored her folds and finally, gently, her slick opening, where she teased herself for several minutes.

She pictured the dark haired man's own fingers doing this while he kissed her deeply, tangling his tongue with hers and finally dragging his tongue down her neck before biting the skin. As Janine envisioned the man biting her, she pressed two fingers deep within herself. She began her established pattern of pleasuring herself. Her mind pictured the dark-haired man plunging deep inside, and her body reacted wildly as a result. Her dream lover had a well toned chest with a dusting of black hair across his pecs and soft hair on his belly that thickened below his navel to encircle a wide shafted cock, the cock she imagined pleasuring her at that moment.

Janine could feel her walls begin to twitch as her orgasm built. She moaned softly in the dark silence of her room. She picked up the pace of both hands to hasten the end. She collapsed in a sated heap, breathing heavily for a moment or two. She completed her self-pleasuring by sucking her juices off her fingers. She had discovered her own taste was pleasing while she was younger, and some men she'd been with seemed to get off on watching her do it.

When her breathing returned to normal, she rolled over and pulled the sheets closer around her. She lifted her head to check that her alarm clock had been set. She had an eight o'clock class in the morning, then work from ten to four, and then another class at six. She wondered if Mike would come to the cafe for lunch again. That would be nice, she thought, as she dropped off to sleep.

Her final thought that night, as it was every night was, _I hope the dreams don't come tonight._


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews! And, thank you to my betas/cheerleaders, One Red Shoe and Velveteenbunny (also serving as my Brit picker). **

**We start to see that perhaps the Ministry's solution for Hermione and Severus' discovery may not be as long lasting as they may have hoped. When will the whole subterfuge fail? Not for a while yet, but when it does, shock waves will reverberate throughout the Ministry, Hogwarts, and their friends. I hope...at least that's what I've plotted out!**

**I do not own the Harry Potter Universe, as you may have suspected. I do, however, own this here little plot. **

* * *

The next morning turned out to be grey and rainy. The sound of a loud thunderclap reverberated within the cafe, startling Janine who dropped the salt shaker she was wiping with her rag onto the table, spilling its contents as the loosened lid rolled away. Just for a moment, strange sounds and images of people screaming overwhelmed her senses. As quickly as the images and sounds came, they dissipated. Janine shook her head, and in a moment of superstitious fancy, she flung some of the spilt salt over her shoulder then finished clearing the table. She double-checked checked that all the tops on the condiments were secure and found them all loosened. The little brat that had screamed the place down—his mother blithely ignoring him to chat with her over blonde friend—must have unscrewed all the lids. Shoving the plates and silverware into the bucket, she wiped the table with her cloth, pushing the pile of salt among the crockery.

Grabbing the bucket, she headed to the kitchen when Marcia, another waitress, hollered that there was a customer on table six. Setting the dirty dishes in the sink, she quickly washed her hands and headed out into the cafe. She was pleased to see that the customer was Mike Lawson, the bloke she met yesterday.

"Good afternoon, Mike, how are you?"

"I am well, thanks," he said, a small smile on his face.

_He didn't shave today, _Janine noticed_. God it looks good on him. "_What can I get for you today?"

"What's the special?"

"Shepherd's pie and sprouts."

"I'll take that and a coffee." He looked at her and smiled.

Janine put her order pad in her apron pocket. Shoving her pencil into her curly hair, she noticed that Mike seemed suddenly ill looking. "Are you all right?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. "You look a little pale all of a sudden."

He gaped a moment before finally replying, "No, I'm fine. Really."

Noticing that his colour was returning, she asked, "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Yeah, thanks."

As Janine turned to leave, Mike exhaled suddenly and wiped his face. His reaction perplexed him, but the simple act of Janine shoving her pencil into her hair completely overwhelmed him, like déjà vu. He had no time to think about this before Janine returned, setting the glass of water on the table.

"Oh, you're looking better already."

Mike took quick sip. "I had a moment of déjà vu, and it rather startled me."

"You know, I get that, too. Sometimes it is quite strong, like I know I've done it before for real, but I guess that's what déjà vu is all about."

"Yes, I know what you mean."

"What was it that...oh, I'm sorry. It's none of my business. I can be nosy sometimes." Janine blushed.

Thinking that the blush made her look pretty, he said, "It's all right; I don't mind you asking. It was when you put your pencil in your hair. I had a feeling as if I had seen you, or someone that looked like you, doing the same thing."

"You know the one thing I dislike about déjà vu?" Janine began.

"Yes?"

"It is so fleeting; you can't really recall the details of the moment. I've tried writing it down, but I can never get what I write to truly relay how strong the feeling was or how vivid the image was in my mind at the time."

Mike knew exactly what Janine meant, but before he could elaborate, she was called away to wait on another table.

About ten minutes later, Janine returned to his table with his lunch. As she set down the dishes, she asked if he needed anything else.

"No, I'm good. Well, perhaps a refill on the coffee?"

"Certainly," she said with a smile.

Finally returning to the kitchen after getting Mike squared away, as well as the only other customer in her section, she settled at a table to begin rolling the cutlery in napkins. Marcia was filling the salt and pepper shakers and began to immediately grill Janine about her customer.

"He's a good looking bloke."

"Yes, he is, isn't he?" Janine agreed.

"Already getting your claim in?" Marcia asked, one eyebrow raised.

Janine was not terribly fond of Marcia. Although she was a very good worker, she was competitive and insecure when it came to how the tables were split up, how many hours one employee got over her, and other small things. Marcia also considered herself the belle of the cafe, and it was well known that she went out with several of the more good looking customers she had met. Janine had had to put up with several nauseating discussions about the sort of sex Marcia had had with one or another of her dates. These relationships never lasted long and Janine often wondered why their boss didn't reprimand Marcia for it. Apparently there was really nothing he could do; her flings did not lose the cafe a great deal of money, so there things stood.

"I am not 'staking my claim' as you so eloquently put it. He's just a customer; a good looking customer."

Marcia smiled delightedly. "Oh, good, because I might do a little claim staking myself. Let me go and see if he needs anything, yeah? I'll tell him you're on break."

"Whatever," Janine mumbled. She had to admit she was a little jealous of Marcia's decision to chat up Mike. Janine had no say; she was not dating the man. She only knew him for what, two days? She watched as Marcia swung her hips as she walked toward Mike's table. She noticed as he looked up the smile on his face died instantly and was replaced with a sneer. For some reason, this pleased Janine to no end, and she heard Mike ask about Marcia and where she was.

Marcia, using what she thought was a sexy voice, but sounding more like a woman who smoked too many fags, said, "She's on break. Is there anything I can get you?" In the course of her question, she had placed her hand on Mike's arm.

Janine watched as Mike looked down at Marcia's arm and then looked back up. "No, I don't think so."

"Not even some dessert? We have a lovely peach tart; fresh baked this morning." As she spoke, she walked her fingers up his arm and leaned forward, her breasts straining at the open décolletage of her uniform.

Mike was obviously annoyed. "You can get your hand off me for one thing, and get me the cheque. Does your employer know that you touch the customers like that?"

Marcia indignantly turned around and walked away, no evidence of a hip swing anywhere. "Mike wants his cheque," she spat at Janine.

Janine bit her cheek to keep from smiling as she retrieved her order pad and quickly went to the till to ring up his bill. She hurried over to his table and handed him the slip of paper.

"Who was that girl that came over while you were on break?" Mike asked.

"That was Marcia; she usually is on duty with me," she replied.

Mike looked through his wallet to find the notes he needed to pay his cheque. Dropping them on the table, he said, "May I be honest with you?"

Wondering what a man she only met yesterday could possibly need to confide to her, she answered carefully, "I suppose."

"That girl is an idiot. Does she honestly think that 'act' works?"

Janine really did smile this time. "Yes, she does, and it has...at least on the younger blokes."

"She's too young to realize that rather than looking sultry, she looks cheap and easy. It takes a confident woman to pull off sultry."

"She is rather insecure," Janine admitted.

Mike looked at his watch. "Time to get back to work. Thank you for my lunch today; you can keep any change. Do you work tomorrow?"

"No, it's Saturday, and I have the day off for once."

"Well, perhaps I'll see you on Monday then."

"Yes, I work then. Thank you and have a nice afternoon."

Janine was smiling as Mike left the cafe. She began to clear his table, looking out the window as she did so. Mike was walking past and as he did, he turned to look into the window. Their eyes met, and he smiled. Janine felt giddy for some reason. Perhaps it was Mike's validation of Marcia's rather gauche behaviour, or the fact that he looked _back_ to smile at her through the window. Regardless, Janine felt empowered the rest of the day.

* * *

Mike had not been pleased when he looked up at the shadow that returned to his table. Looking up in the hope of seeing the lovely Janine, he saw a short, somewhat dumpy looking girl with hair two shades too fake and overly long, red fingernails. _How is a food service worker even allowed to have nails like that? _he wondered. Then the woman opened her mouth.

He had to curtail the urge to laugh aloud when she flounced away from his table. Now that he was on the street, he snorted and smiled. The poor cow thought she was some hot man eater. The voice alone could turn even the hardest cock flaccid in an instant. The wink she used was hardly subtle. Her breasts might have been nice to look at if she hadn't so many spots on them. Even the attempt to cover them with make-up failed. _No,_ he thought, _she simply looked desperate_. _Not like Janine_.

Janine was the kind of woman who was confident about herself and _that_ Mike found very sexy. He shook his head; maybe he just needed to get laid.

He hadn't had a lot of time to meet any women since he moved to Histon several weeks ago. Between his working hours, finding a flat, moving in and learning the area, he hadn't thought about dating. But now that he had met Janine, albeit only for thirty minutes intermittently over his lunch break, he realized that perhaps it was time to see what other attractions Histon had.

Mike preferred younger women. Not the vapid, vacuous university girl type, but ones that were confidant, were goal minded, and who were smart, and _that_ he found, was an incredible turn on. That's not to say his past wasn't spotted with the occasional hook-up from the bar scene or trip to a brothel, because it was, but he first preference would always been the confident, smart younger woman.

His first impression of Janine, although a university girl, was that she fell into the confident, smart category he preferred. It helped that she was trim with moderate curves, average sized breasts, and was very pretty. She had beautiful brown eyes that were expressive. The two times they had chatted while she served his lunch, he noticed that her eyes danced with light and danced with delight as she spoke. Her hair, what he could make of it, was tightly braided with a long tail down her back. He could see that some curls escaped their bondage here and there, which made him wonder just how curly it would be when not tied back. Would his fingers tangle in it if he ran them through the honey coloured locks?

As he reached the door of his shop, he was exasperated to note that the front of his trousers were uncomfortably tight. Perhaps a good wank tonight was in order. Stepping into the shop, waiting until his eyes adjusted to the change in intensity of light, he discretely shifted his trouser front for a bit of relief.

Because his thoughts had been on women, he took special notice of the four he worked with daily. Two of the women were his age, but already married with kids. One was just counting the few months left until she could collect her pension, and the fourth was a part-time secondary school girl who came in after school to stock shelves.

No, there was something about the little slip of a woman from the cafe that called to him. He wondered if she dated older men. He would definitely be eating more lunches at the cafe in order to find out.

As he walked to the back of the shop where the pharmacy was located, all further thoughts of Janine left his head as he saw a line of patrons at the window, all clamouring for their prescriptions. Mike hurried behind the counter and began to mix compounds.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned sunny and warm in Histon. Janine indulged in the luxury of a lie in before finally getting up, heading first to the loo and then to the kitchen to make some coffee. She revelled in the fact that she did not have to work today. It was a rare Saturday she did not, and she would take advantage of it. Equally pleasing was the fact that her flatmate, Pam, had gone on a two-week holiday beginning the day before. Two entire lovely weeks of having the flat to herself had her dancing a little jig in front of the coffee maker and began to make breakfast.

Quickly making toast, she spread it with jam and while eating it, she went to her bedroom, gathered her dirty clothes and went to the ground floor laundry in her building. Throwing a load in the washer, she scurried back to her flat and quickly did some housework. She then took a shower, went back to move her clothing from the washer to the dryer, setting aside the lingerie to hang in the bathroom to air dry. She went back upstairs and made a grocery list. She didn't need much in the way of food since she ate on campus and in the cafe at a discount, but she always kept at least a bit of bacon, eggs, fresh vegetables, bread, coffee, tea, and cream on hand. She also remembered she needed some shampoo and feminine products. Dressed and hair braided, she took one last trip to the laundry for her clothes, returned to her apartment, folded, and put away the items and then went shopping.

She took her time shopping since the weather was so nice. She lived within walking distance to the market, and it took very little time to gather what she needed. On the way back, she stopped at a flower stall to buy a fresh bouquet to brighten her living room. She passed several acquaintances along the way and stopped to chat with a few. Arriving home shortly after noon, she put away the groceries and found a vase for the flowers. Looking at her desk and the pile of homework she needed to do, she decided to pack a lunch and head to the park to enjoy the sun and do her work.

Janine had been settled on a park bench for about a half an hour when the smell of Bergamot caught her attention. Looking up to see where the scent was coming from, she saw Mike Lawson, her new neighbour and customer from the cafe.

"Hello, Mike! What brings you here?"

"Much the same as you I suppose, enjoying a sunny day. May I join you?"

"Please." Janine moved over on the bench she had been sitting on, gathering her books and notebooks to make room.

"Revising?' Mike asked.

"Yes and not making much headway either. My brain wants to be lazy in this weather."

Mike picked up her notebook and glanced at it. "I can see by your doodles you're not making much headway." Janine giggled. "What are they? They look familiar; beautiful too."

"I've doodled the same designs for years. All my school notes have the margins filled with them. I don't know what they are. They remind me of hieroglyphs, but I never actually studied them, nor have I bothered to find out what these are, truth be told. They are just a way for me to pass the time during boring lectures."

"What are you studying?"

"Maths."

Mike shuddered comically. "I had the worst time with maths, and me a pharmacist! Fortunately, with computers today, I don't have to worry so much about numbers. I just punch in a few figures, and I get the ratios I need."

"What exactly do you do as a pharmacist?" Janine asked, looking at Mike with interest in her eyes.

"Well, I manage the shop overall. I have two assistants that are more or less pill counters. However, there are some compounds and elixirs that have to be made, and only registered pharmacists can do that. That's the part I really like to do. There are four ladies who work in shifts, helping to stock shelves and the like."

"Have you ever thought about creating the formulas for the drugs themselves?"

"Yes, actually. However, you need a PhD. for that, and I haven't the money for that type of education. Someday, maybe, if I save enough money or get a grant or some such. I did work as an assistant to a theorist while at university and was honoured to have a few of my ideas incorporated into his work." Mike shifted on the bench to make himself more comfortable. "What is it about numbers you like?"

'Numbers are finite."

"No they—"

Janine waved a hand at Mike to stop his retort. "I mean the rules; you know like in division or multiplication. It's the way you interpret them that gets tricky. I like my statistics class because I like seeing the trends that appear and seeing how the addition of various factors will affect the outcome." Janine sighed, "But, I'm not sure where or what I am going to do with my education yet. I like history as well, but my parents don't. My parents wanted me to do something in the medical field; they're dentists. I don't think I'd like that...the residency, on call at all hours. I like numbers better. Perhaps I'll take a course in history next semester and see how it goes."

"Your parents sound like they wanted you to study something concrete."

"Yes. My parents don't think history will get me very far. They think the maths might." Janine sighed exasperatedly and threw up her hands. "They want me to be sensible." She made a face of resignation as she finished her statement.

Mike laughed at the woman beside him. "Something tells me you are not sensible at heart."

"Oh, I am in most ways, but the inner me isn't quite as sensible as my parents might wish, and that part of me wants to wait to be sensible a little longer yet. As much as I like history and maths, I really want to be a writer," she confessed.

"What sort of writer?" asked Mike, interestedly.

Janine blushed upon being asked to reveal a bit of personal information to a relative stranger. A good looking stranger she'd admit; someone she'd like to get to know a little better, even.

"Well, my insensible heart seems to like the fantastic. You know...wild stories about worlds that exist beyond our realm. Sort of Tolkien inspired. I...um...keep a diary of my dreams."

"I have heard that if you wish to write, that is a technique to use to help inspire you." Mike said.

Janine shook her head in agreement. "Once I found that out, I began to keep a diary; I've filled five diaries already even though I started my diary keeping quite late. I was around sixteen when I started."

"You must have quite an imagination!" Mike laughed quietly.

"Oh, my brain can be quiet vivid! But sometimes...sometimes I write things that aren't stories or supernatural."

"I believe that is typical of young ladies; to keep a diary of their day."

Janine laughed at Mike's supposition. "Oh, no; that's not what I mean. Sure, some girls keep diaries when they are young about the blokes they admire, or their first kiss, but my diaries are not at all like that. I have dreams, weird dreams. Dreams so real they feel like I've actually lived them." Janine paused, looking away from Mike and to the people relaxing in the park. She wondered just how much to reveal to this relative, albeit kind, new friend. Turning back to him, she asked, "Remember when we talked about déjà vu yesterday?"

"Sure," said Mike uncomfortably.

"I don't just experience it on occasion. I experience it all the time; every single day. The dreams got more vivid and wild when I was sixteen; that's another reason why I started the diaries. It's like I've lived another life, and it is trying to emerge into this one. Do you know what I mean?"

Mike looked at Janine a long moment before answering. "Would you think I was crazy if I said that I do know what you mean?"

"You do?" Janine asked, wide-eyed.

Mike looked off into the distance, struggling to answer her question. "Yes. I have nightmares...terrible nightmares in which I do the most horrifying things. I also have a sense of déjà vu similar to yours."

The pair was quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Janine said, "I'd like to talk to you more about them sometime, if you wanted."

"Perhaps," Mike agreed, and shaking off the melancholy mood that hovered over the pair, he stood. "However, today is too nice to think about our nightmares. Would you like to walk around the lake? I was here a few days ago, and I found it quite peaceful."

Janine, thankful for the change in subject, agreed. She stashed her books away in her messenger bag and slung it around her neck so that it fell across her body. She took the arm that Mike offered in a bit of old world chivalry. "I feel like a Grande Dame, holding your arm like this," she giggled.

"Well, then, milady," Mike hammed up an exaggerated bow, "let us go forth and stroll."

Janine laughed at his courtly manners, and the two set off for a lovely afternoon walk.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! And thanks to my betas, Velveteenbunny and One Red Shoe.  
**

**I meant to post this last weekend, but argh! got called into work. Just to refresh your memories, Janine and Mike were walking around the lake at the end of our last chapter and had a pleasant afternoon getting to know a bit more about each other. This chapter deals with their reactions to that and...well, I'll not spoil it now.**

**I will be posting two more chapter between now and Tuesday midnight. The Christian season of Lent begins Wednesday, and I have decided (and this WILL be difficult for me) to put aside fan fiction for the time period. Even my writing. So, I decided to at least get you through the beginning of their relationship (chapters 7 and 8) and then a brief return to the present day Wizarding world (chapter 9). **

**A more explicit version of this chapter may be found at The Maple Bookshelf and AO3.**

**JK Rowling owns the characters, I own this little story.**

* * *

**May 2001**

Janine lay in bed after Mike walked her back to her flat wondering if she would return to earth any time soon. The walk with Mike had been fantastic.

After strolling around the entire lake, they had left the park to walk along the streets of Histon, Janine acting as tour guide for Mike. She pointed out various good places to eat, which quick shop grocer to avoid, and where all the little bookshops were. At the mention of bookshops, Mike demanded to be shown the best one. With a delighted laugh, Janine grabbed Mike by the hand and led him along. For the next hour or so, they both wandered through the shelves of the second hand bookshop that Janine had deemed the best. As they left the shop, both having purchased new books, a friendly argument began over whose collection of books was larger.

It was decided to solve the argument over some Chinese takeaway at Mike's flat, and then he would walk her back to hers and take a look at her collection. After examining each others libraries, it was determined that Mike's was indeed more extensive, but only because he was older than Janine and had been buying books longer. The night ended with a friendly but polite exchange of 'it was a lovely day' and 'thank you'.

Janine was giddy after the long and wonderful day and as she relaxed and attempted to review it more thoroughly, but fell asleep quickly.

_The wind whipped the curls into her eyes, making them water even more. She shifted her bottom on the bony spine of the animal she was riding, but she could find no spot to ease her discomfort. She tucked her head down along the side of the animal's neck in the hope that it would curtail the wind._

_After what seemed an eternity, the animal landed roughly on the macadam street just outside a large empty warehouse. She and her friends slide off their mount's backs and leapt into a phone booth._

_The images flashed through her mind...a circular room with many doors and red 'x's marking them...flashes of light and running feet. She heard men yelling and a wild, high-pitched cackle. At one point, she was in a room where row upon row of shelving stood quietly and a boy's feet could be heard as they slapped against the floor, hurrying as he searched for a man named Sirius. He counted the rows as he ran along. The scene jumped and glass was flying everywhere as flashes of light flew through the room suddenly filled with tiny illuminated balls of glass exploding around her. _

_The scene jumped again as a large man slashed a baton in the air before her, his mouth moving, but no sound coming out. Pain shot through her chest as her world __faded away into darkness__. _

Janine screamed as she woke. _Damnit, another dream_. She flopped back against her pillow, wiping her hair out of her eyes, feeling tears on her face. She realized she needed to go to the bathroom and kicked the tangle of blankets off her legs and made her way to the loo. Once she was done, she looked in the mirror and saw dark circles under her eyes. She'd be worthless at work tomorrow; she always was when the dreams were especially intense.

She splashed cold water on her face and then dried it. Her hair had come out of her braid as she dreamt; _Must have tossed and turned quite a bit this time,_ she mused. Taking the elastic off the tail of her braid, she pulled it apart, picked up her hairbrush and proceeded to re-work her hair. Once it was arranged in some semblance of order, she walked back to her room. Before slipping back into bed, she turned on the light perched on her nightstand, opened the drawer and pulled a few items out. One of the items was a nightlight which she plugged into the outlet in the wall opposite her bed. She didn't use a nightlight as a rule, but when the dreams were at their worst, she needed the comfort it gave her.

Slipping back into bed, she picked up her diary and pen and began to scribble what she remembered of the dream. She was about to close the book when she noticed that she had doodled hieroglyphs on the last entry. She smiled as she remembered her discussion with Mike about them. Maybe a trip to the university's library was in order to see if the doodles meant anything or were just that- doodles. Quickly putting away the diary and pen, she turned out her bedside lamp and lay back against the pillow. She needed to think of something pleasant right now, and Mike Lawson certainly was pleasant.

Her planned boring day of revising had turned into a wonderful day of walking, getting to know this new man, and a nice dinner afterward. They had chatted lightly about several topics, never really going in much depth about the subjects. They had also talked a bit about their lives...where they grew up, schooling, that sort of thing. She seemed to think Mike enjoyed her impromptu guided tour, and the time in the bookshop was very nice. They often called to each other to show one another a title or two, exclaiming over whether or not they had a copy of their own or had at least read it at some point.

Her time at Mike's flat was pleasant at well. He lived very modestly and neatly. There was no artwork on his walls as the bookcases he had boasted of earlier filled the space. He had knick knacks tucked here and there among the books, but overall, just the books with their colourful bindings and jackets provided colour in the room. He had a large telly and a nice looking CD player with speakers and several shelves of CDs. He even had a turntable and a few old, favourite vinyl records among his possessions. He subscribed to a few magazines, and Janine recognized among those scattered on the coffee table news magazines, a pharmacy journal, and Playboy.

Even their simple dinner of Chinese take away and a few beers was perfect. Yes, Janine decided, today was a great day and one she would not mind repeating. She felt that the signals she got from Mike were that he was interested, too. He never let go of her hand as it lay in the crook of his arm as they walked. He listened with interest to what she had to say about her studies and the information she was giving about Histon.

She glanced at the clock; two hours before she needed to be up to head to work. She rolled over, hoping she would get a bit more sleep before then.

* * *

As Janine was settling into bed for the first time, across the road in his flat Mike was also slipping into bed. He had had a good day. He hadn't expected to see Janine at the park, but when he did run into her, he detoured from his original plan to walk along the lake shore to say hello to her. She looked quite attractive on the park bench, a book open in her lap, her yellow sun dress stirring around her ankles as the breeze blew. Her feet were bare and looking about, he saw a pair of abandoned sandals on the grass in front of her. Her hair was braided again, but the sun highlighted shades he hadn't noticed before. Her shoulders, bare to the sun, were a nice bronze colour, and Mike suspected this was not the first warm day she had spent on a park bench.

He was pretty sure he'd like to see more of Janine. She chattered on about Histon and her studies, but what she said was relevant and interesting. Several dates he had had in the past ended long before they should have because the woman did not know how to shut up. Mike simply did not have the patience to deal with babbling women.

He liked her laugh; it was merry without being too loud. Her smile was genuine and lovely, and when she did, her eyes shone brightly and crinkled at the corners. She also listened with interest when he told her a little about himself, asking the right sort of questions in return without being too nosy.

Janine had mentioned how the university boys would hang out at various pubs here and there, and woe betide you should you be at a particular pub and cheer for the wrong rugby team. When he asked if she frequented those pubs as well, she denied doing so. She said she was not into the heavy university scene even if she was attending classes. 'I am too busy with work and revising, to party all the time' she had said.

They skirted the topic of dating, but from what they did say, Mike got the impression that she had dated a few men. He wondered if she was sexually experienced; she was what...twenty-two or three? More than likely she had been with a man and this piqued Mike's interest. He was a man of varied tastes sexually, and not all the women he dated were as eager as he was in bed. His thoughts turned from Janine to some of his past bed partners, and his cock twitched in interest.

Slipping the sheet down his torso, Mike grazed his thumbs over his nipples, a soft thrum of pleasure coursing through his body. He slipped his hands down his stomach to his groin and grasped his cock. He gently rubbed it, feeling its weight against his palm. Reaching into the bedside drawer, he extracted a small bottle of lotion and pumped a drop into his palm. Tossing the bottle onto the bed, he turned his attention back to his needs.

Skimming the lotion over the surface first, he encircled himself and slowly pulled from the base upward, the lotion providing a just enough lubrication to avoid chafing, but allowing enough friction to be pleasurable. Once his fist wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pulled gently back down, easing the foreskin back and revealing the head. It was dusky purple already, and the slit was shining with precum. Laying his head back, he began to fantasize.

He used an old fantasy, but one that usually turned him on a great deal. It was a threesome with him and a buddy and lusciously nude women who was tied spread eagle to a bed. Mike began to pump his fist around his cock in time to the fantasy Mike, who was thrusting his length in and out of the woman's mouth. He would pull completely out every third or so stroke so the woman could breath. He sensed that his buddy's ministrations were about to make her come, so he thrust back into her mouth. She tried to scream through her orgasm, and the vibrations were too much for fantasy Mike who spurted his load down her throat.

The real Mike also came hard, pumping himself as each spurt of cum that issued from his body hit his stomach, pooling into his somewhat flat navel, and dribbling down his fist. He was sated after that and for a moment or two just lay there, panting and resting. As he felt himself start to nod off, he reached for the box of tissue on his nightstand and cleaned himself up. With a satisfied groan, he rolled over and before he fell asleep, wondered if Janine would like to go on a date sometime.

* * *

Late spring finally had a hold of the southeast region of England. The days were sunny and mild, but Janine saw few of them as she worked and revised for her upcoming final exams. She only saw Mike on the days she worked and only for the thirty minutes he was in the cafe, much to both of their disappointment.

One lunchtime, Mike entered the cafe and went right to his regular table, and waited for Janine. Looking up expectantly when he heard footsteps, he was dismayed to discover the dumpy Marcia (as he called her in his mind) headed in his direction.

"Hello, love," she said, in what she thought was a welcoming manner.

Mike shuddered and asked, "Where is Janine today?"

Marcia eyes hardened as she replied with disdain, "Janine no longer waits this section of the cafe."

"Oh? Which tables does she wait on now?"

Pointing with her pencil, she said, "The ones on the other side of the cafe, and the counter."

Mike looked in that direction and could see Janine's back where she stood, serving plates from a large tray she was holding. He could see one last empty table in that section; Marcia's area had plenty of empty tables.

"Excuse me," he said, standing and moving to the empty table.

Marcia hollered, "Hey, you can't do that!"

"I think you'll find that not only can I do that, but I just did. He turned to say hello to the welcoming smile Janine gave him as she approached his table.

"Hello, Mike!"

"Hello, Janine."

"So, why aren't you sitting at your usual table?"

"My usual table had too much of Marcia and not enough you."

Janine laughed. "Yes, how convenient for Marcia that her tables were switched with mine just this morning."

"Her old tables were too much work for her?"

"Her old tables apparently don't have enough you."

Mike smirked. "Hmm, her new tables still don't seem to have enough me."

"You're awful," Janine said smacking him lightly on the arm.

"Does your employer know you mishandle the customers like that?" he said teasingly.

"He said we're allowed to if they get fresh," she said primly but with a grin. "Now what'll you have today?"

Quickly scanning the notice board for the special, Mike ordered the sandwich du jour and some coffee. Janine put her order pad in her apron and went off to put his order in.

When she came back with his coffee, he asked, "Are you allowed to take any breaks?"

"We are not normally scheduled breaks, but if I need a minute to get off my feet, I can. Why?"

"When I leave, I'd like to ask you something, but I'd rather do it in a more private setting, if you don't mind."

"Sure, I'll slip out through the back door and find you at the corner, if that's all right?"

"That will be fine."

Janine left to go get his order, her stomach in knots. Exams were one cause for her anxiety, but the hope of just what question Mike might ask was another. It was with somewhat shaky hands that she handed him his lunch.

Twenty maddening minutes later, Mike stood to pay his bill. As he did so, Janine, slipped into the kitchen to tell the manager she was going outside for a bit of air- final exam nerves and all that.

She went out the kitchen door and hurried to the corner at the front of the cafe, just in time to see Mike come out the door. He turned in one direction obviously looking for her and then the other when saw her. He smiled and walked toward her.

"There you are."

"Hi. What did you need to ask?"

"I was wondering, although we've spent some time together already in the park, would you like to go on a date with me?"

Janine did all she could not to squeal like some fifteen year old who had just been asked for a date by the cutest bloke in the school. However, she could not stop the smile that brightened her face as she responded, "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"What about this weekend? I think you said your last exam was Friday. We could do something Saturday if you had the day off."

"I don't, but I'll put in for it now. I usually don't take days off, so I am sure it would be no trouble."

"All right. Would you be interested in a film or something?"

"Anything really." Her face lit up with an idea. "If you'd like, there are local rugby matches on over in the stadium on the other side of town. We could catch a match if you want?"

"You like rugby?" Mike asked, surprised.

"Yes. I am not a rabid fan, but I do like to catch a game now and again. Histon has been doing very well in the local leagues."

"That sounds fine; what time?"

"It starts at one p.m."

"Would you like some lunch beforehand?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll pick you up at your flat around eleven thirty? We'll get something to eat and then head to the game. Do we drive or walk?"

"We'll need to drive."

"Okay. I've got a car. Are there any good places to eat on that side of town?"

"Oh my yes. Whatever you're in the mood for, you'll find a place."

"Well, we'll decide then. You have an exam today, do you not?"

"Yes. I am very nervous."

"Don't be. You'll do well I am sure." With that, Mike leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow for lunch."

Janine stood a moment and watched him walk away, the sensation of his kiss pressing heavily on her cheek; she could still smell the scent of his cologne. Bergamot would forever be her favourite scent.

"Janine!"

Startled, Janine turned to see Marcia standing at the open kitchen door, hands on her hips and looking very angry.

"Get your arse back in here. Your tables are full!"

Janine hurried to the door that Marcia held open just long enough for Janine to lift a foot up over the sill and then it slammed shut in her face.

"Bitch," she mumbled opening the door. She stomped inside and through the kitchen.

"Didn't take you long," Marcia said snidely.

"What didn't take long?"

"Got your claws into that good looking guy."

"You mean the one who wasn't easily fooled by your apparent experience and charm?"

Marcia _humfed_ and walked away. Janine shook her head. _Jealous cow_. Nevertheless, she wouldn't let the woman disrupt the happiness she felt about being officially asked out on a date with Mike in two days' time. The match would be over by four p.m. at the latest. Would their evening continue? She would just have to wait and see!


	8. An apology

A/N: I had posted chapters 8 and 9 but as you can see...they are no more. Based on a review I got for the previously posted chapter 8 and the return of that chapter from my other beta, I have decided to delete the chapters until I can polish them up a bit more.

One reviewer had quite a few problems with my apparent lack of Brit picking (I do actually have one) to the point it was distracting them from the story. I care about my work, so I have decided to delete the two chapters and repost them after I and my Brit picker review them.

We may not have caught every Americanism in the previous chapters, but I will strive to ensure it is a clean as possible for the rest of the story.

Worrywart


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